


What Makes A Slave

by StormAzure



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure
Genre: Gen, Other, Someday, Too pure for this world, and generally being myotismon, i have no idea how to tag these things, myotismon doing vampire stuff, salamon is a cinnamon roll, uhhh, wizardmon will appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormAzure/pseuds/StormAzure
Summary: Alone, scared, about to be eaten alive, Salamon is taken in by Myotismon. As time goes on, she thinks death might have been the better option. Before she meets Kari, Gatomon endures years or torture and despair at the hands of her master. Follows the Digimon Adventure: Novel as translated by Megu on digitalscratch. Some blood, some violence, not too much swearing. Reviews grateful





	1. Chapter 1

It had been some days since he had found her, alone, cold, scared, defenceless; in the forest all by herself. All Salamon had done since he brought her back to the castle was sleep, curled into a cloth blanket in the corner of Myotismon's study, as he worked and muttered to himself.  
On the third day of drifting in and out of consciousness, the strength finally returned to her little body. Lifting herself, Salamon stretched, yawning, enjoying the warmth that surrounded her. The room was large, but cosy, warmed by an enormous fireplace. with a warmth and a smell she wouldn't ever get out of her nostrils. There was a sweet smell about the room, like roses, but subtler. There was something underlying, something she had never smelt before. It was metallic, and as she breathed deeply, it crept from her nose to her mouth, filling it and leaking onto her taste buds.  
The catch on the door leapt up and the door opened. A dozen or so bats flew into the room, settling onto the rafters and glaring down at Salamon before wrapping their wings around themselves to sleep. Suddenly anxious, Salamon retreated back into the blanket before a noise at the door made her stand straight.  
The hinges creaked as the door was pushed fully open by a gloved hand.  
Salamon had only half seen him when he rescued her in the forest, but now, as he stepped into the study, she saw him in full. He stood tall, over ten times her size. He was dressed in a blue uniform and black cloak, lined with red. Over blue eyes sat a red mask, flared at the tip like a bat opening its wings. His hair was cropped short, a dark honey blonde colour.  
He was intimidating to say the least, but the worst part about him was the two long fangs protruding over his bottom lip. These lips were pulled into a satisfied smile as he stared down at the tiny Digimon in the corner of his study.  
Salamon realised she was shaking. She may have been young and naïve, but her Vaccine instincts told her to escape from this mon; that he was evil of the worst kind.  
'You are finally awake,' he observed, striding into the study, allowing the door to bounce shut, making Salamon jump as it hit the frame with a loud bang.  
Words stuck in her throat and her heart began to beat double time. Ignorant of her fear, Myotismon sat at a large desk, opening a leather bound book in front of him.  
Salamon craned her neck out from the nest of blanket to see him.  
'Come here,' he said.  
Though he had not raised his voice, she knew it was a command, stepping out of the safety and warmth of the blanket and pacing towards him.  
She stopped at the side of the desk; otherwise the bigger mon would have had to strain over to see her tiny figure.  
'Do you know who I am?' he asked her, eyes fixed on the cover of a book on his desk.  
Salamon shook her head. No words had been exchanged during their first meeting.  
'Pardon?'  
'N-no,' Salamon stuttered.  
A smirk crossed his lips. 'I am Myotismon, the Undead King, commander of the underworld, and rightful ruler of the Digital World.'  
'You saved me from that Dobermon in the forest,' she squeaked.  
A noise escaped Myotismon's lips, something bordering on a sarcastic chuckle. 'Dobermon was a former recruit, who had the idea he would leave my service without my permission. He needed to be taught that the only way one leaves my Nightmare Army, is by being deleted. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'  
'You still saved me,' Salamon pressed.  
Her cheek was met with a glare and she backed away.  
'I recruited you,' Myotismon told her plainly.  
She gulped, any preconceived notions of her survival being a good thing suddenly buried in the pit of her stomach.  
'You are a promising recruit and being so young and new, I can easily mold you into something to be feared.'  
That didn't sound too bad.  
'Then again, you may Digivolve into some pathetic thing that is of no use to me, in which case, I will just have to destroy you,' he continued, faintly amused by the fear in her eyes. 'What was your prior form?'  
Salamon cocked her head to the side. 'What do you mean?' she asked, fear making her voice come out no louder than a squeak.  
'Whom did you evolve from?' Myotismon pressed.  
'Nyaromon, I was Nyaromon.'  
A frown flickered across Myotismon's face. 'How is that possible? You are already a Rookie.'  
Salamon watched, confused, as Myotismon flicked through the book on his desk.  
He muttered something to himself, something too quiet for Salamon to hear, before shutting the book and raising from his chair.  
'Come,' he told her.  
Obediently, she followed him. As they walked, she had to double her usual pace to keep up with his long strides, and bound forward when she fell too far behind.  
If it hadn't been for his lead, she was sure she would get lost in this place - wherever it was - with every wall being the same shade of grey stone, and the floor being the same dull grey. Maybe they had been white once, and maybe once the walls had been smoothed or plastered, but now, between grey blocks of cut rock, were smaller stones filling in the gaps.  
She took it all in, trying to remember which way they turned, and how many doorways they passed through. Paying too much attention to the walls rather than to the mon in front of her, her paw caught at the trails of his cloak. She tripped head over heels, making Myotismon's step falter.  
He turned to her, glowering down.  
'Take care,' he warned as she got back to her feet, shaking off the bump her head had received.  
'Sorry,' she mumbled, eyes lowered to the ground.  
He glared at her and she didn't dare look up until she heard him turn, waiting again until he had taken two steps, his feet - the same size as her whole body - thudding against the stones.  
‘If you had any ideas about wandering off alone,’ Myotismon began as they turned another corner. ‘I would advise against it. There are a great many number of Digimon who stalk these halls and prey on the weak and meagre like yourself.’  
‘I’m not weak,’ Salamon whined with a pout at her lips.  
As if to prove his point, Myotismon stopped, quickly turning in one swift movement, bending at the waist to pick the tiny Rookie up by the scruff of her neck and pinching the roll of flesh hard.  
She let out a pained cry at the action, squirming under his hold.  
‘You were saying?’ the mon asked with a smirk.  
If she hadn’t been afraid, if her body hadn't been quaking in fear, she would have glared, her small sense and understanding of dignity and pride screaming at her to stare him down and deny him. Instead, she kept quiet, tears threatening to leak from her blue eyes.  
Myotismon let out a snort and tucked Salamon into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way through the castle until a final door gave way to their destination. An inverted “L” shaped room, lined with packed book cases adjacent to a long table. A fireplace against the wall to the left of the door with a wingback, bottle green leather armchair drawn close to the flames which sprang to life when Myotismon’s feet crossed the threshold.  
‘What is this place?’ Salamon asked, shying back into Myotismon’s chest.  
‘A library,’ he replied simply, concentration on one row of books unwavering.  
She nodded, eyes tracking and following, face turning to a frown as Myotismon picked a book out and headed for the armchair, picking her up by the scruff once again as he sat down, placing her on the arm of the chair.  
Salamon craned her neck to see over his arm, frown deepening at the symbols and squiggles on the page.  
Noticing her intrigue, Myotismon dropped his arm, giving her a better view.  
‘Can you even read?’ he asked, a hidden eyebrow cocked behind his mask.  
Salamon squeaked, cheeks flushing red as she shook her head.  
‘No!’ she spoke quickly when Myotismon glared at her.  
‘You were completely alone up until I found you?’  
‘Yes. No one paid any attention to me, or talked to me. Dobermon only noticed me because he was hungry, he said.’  
‘He probably thought you were still at the In-Training level. But even you as a Rookie could have defended yourself against that poor excuse for a Digimon.’  
Salamon looked confused, cocking her head to the side, staring up at Myotismon with wide eyes.  
‘How?’  
‘How what?’  
‘How could I have defended myself?’  
Myotismon shut the book, the disturbance in the air puffing into Salamon’s face.  
‘You have no sense of self awareness, do you?’ he asked, baffled by her naivety.  
‘No,’ she muttered, pouting again.  
‘Do you remember what happened to Dobermon? What I did to him?’  
She thought back, and spoke about the red lightning that had strangled Dobermon, crushing him until he burst into data.  
‘My Crimson Lightning,’ Myotismon told her.  
‘What’s that?’  
‘Digimon have a defence mechanism, an attack or two, for when they're threatened or need to fight off enemies.’  
‘I don’t,’ Salamon murmured.  
‘Stop pouting.’  
She glanced up at him quickly, seeing him glaring at her. She wrinkled her nose and did her best to straighten her face despite questioning why a pout was a bad thing?  
‘You will know what it is when the time comes. Most Digimon discover it when they are under great threat and have no option other to fight or die.’  
She stayed silent, watching him as he stared down at the front cover of the closed book, eyes narrowing and a smirk pulling at the corner of his lip.  
‘Maybe I’ll have to help you,’ he said suddenly, clutching at her neck above the golden ring at her neck, lifting all four of her paws from the arm of the chair. ‘If I keep squeezing, you’ll have no other option other than to try and fight me.’  
‘I can’t,’ she squeaked. ‘I can’t breath.’  
He did nothing to relent, or loosen his grip, only staring into her eyes, a battle of blue against blue.  
‘Please.’  
Even through the leather of his gloves, he could feel her pulse at her neck weakening, he could see her eyes darkening, and her paws stopped kicking. Just as she was about to pass out, and he was to finally let go, the ring around her neck began to vibrate, and suddenly became hot against his flesh, but apparently not Salamon’s.  
‘Maybe you can’t defend yourself,’ Myotismon growled, dropping Salamon back to the chair. ‘But you are protected.’  
He inspected the damage to his hand, his glove burnt through and his blue hued flesh bubbling, data fuzzing around it, healing the wound.  
Salamon lay unmoving, drawing in laboured breaths, unaware of the harm her ring had caused Myotismon.  
‘I think I will have to keep an eye on you.’  
He placed a hand on her head, gently, almost affectionately as he stroked a finger between her ear.  
‘Pathetic little thing.’


	2. Chapter 2

Salamon was confined to Myotismon’s office for a number of weeks after she arrived. She saw the transition between moon and sun out of the small window, but lost count of the times it changed.  
Myotismon ignored her mostly, being out during the nighttime and sitting at his desk reading during most of the day until he slumped over in his chair asleep.  
She rather enjoyed watching him, having forgotten his assault in the library, and a few times found herself lying at his feet or on his lap, something that seemed to amuse Myotismon.  
It was after she had fallen asleep at his feet for the eighth time he took umbrage, lightly kicking her to wake her.  
‘It's about time you were put to work,’ he told her.  
Salamon stared up sleepily, his words not quite registering.  
‘But what to do with you? You're so small.’  
Salamon stayed silent, trying her best to hold back a frown.  
‘We could tie rags to your feet and have you polish the hall floor,’ Myotismon mused with a smile.  
She grimaced at that idea, thinking it would be degrading.  
When Myotismon was silent, apparently going off the idea almost immediately, she turned his mind to another subject, bored of the silence and frustrated at her isolation. However degrading, at least polishing floors would get her out of this room.  
‘How many Digimon are here?’ She asked.  
Myotismon let out a breath through his nose, bending to pick her up, sitting her on his lap again.  
‘I lost count. There are at least fifty new recruits a month, whether all of them make it through basic training is another story.’  
‘Where do they come from?’ she asked, not dwelling on the last part of his sentence too much.  
‘My generals recruit them.’  
‘Like you recruited me?’  
He nodded.  
‘And do all your recruits get such an easy start as me?’  
‘Most are already Champion level. Rookies are no good to me.’  
Salamon wondered not for the first time why she seemed to be so special. Choosing not to press the subject of her she thought of another question.  
‘Who are your generals?’  
Myotismon frowned, chewing at his cheek as he thought.  
‘SkullMeramon, Phantomon, MegaSeadramon,’ he stopped and looked down at her. ‘What?’  
‘They're all Ultimates.’  
‘Of course, and all have shown their worth and loyalty to me.’  
‘How long have they been here?’ Salamon asked.  
‘I don't keep track. No one is here for more than a few years,’ he replied with a nonchalant shrug.  
‘Oh,’ she mumbled, turning her face down to hide her expression.  
‘Stop pouting,’ he told her.  
‘Sorry.’  
He curled his lips, satisfied by her obedience.  
‘Do you think I could be a general?’  
He let out a snort and she frowned.  
‘What's so funny?’ She asked, her voice raising a few octaves.  
‘Salamon, currently, you couldn't fight your way out of a thorn bush.’  
The frown turned to a scowl.  
‘Maybe when I Digivolve?’  
‘If you ever Digivolve,’ he challenged. ‘And even then, who's to say you'll gain attacks?’  
‘I will!’  
The pair stared each other down for a few silent moments, Salamon frowning in determination and Myotismon with amusement.  
He rose from the chair and Salamon jumped down to the floor, watching as he went to the door, the bats lurking in the roof waking at their master’s movement.  
‘Follow me.’  
‘Where are we going?’ Salamon asked, padding over to him.  
‘You're going to see what it takes to become a general.’  
To save time, he picked her up and carried her through the castle to the training ground, passing a myriad of Digimon along the way, not all of which Salamon knew the name or type of.  
The training ground was a worn out square of dirt, sprigs of grass in less trampled patches and even the odd brave flower poking its head through the mud. There were definite tracks where Digimon had run back and forth time and time again.  
Now, the ground was occupied by a group of thirty something Digimon, a mix of Numemon, Gotsumon, Mushroomon and Gazimon, being commanded by a floating spectre in a red cloak.  
At his arrival, the hooded Digimon turned to Myotismon and bowed, the lower ranks continuing their training at the officer’s orders.  
‘Phantomon,’ Myotismon said, addressing the spectre. ‘Our newest recruit has hopes of rising through the ranks and taking your place some day.’  
The glowing blue eyes of the mon narrowed under his red hood, causing Salamon to shy into Myotismon’s arm.  
Feeling her retreat, Myotismon placed Salamon down on a huddle of bricks and logs, Phantomon dropping to her level, staring at her.  
‘What is it?’ He asked Myotismon, voice wavering.  
‘Salamon,’ he replied.  
She shied away again, feet slipping on the wet wood.  
‘He won't hurt you,’ Myotismon told her, the smirk on his lips unseen by Salamon.  
‘Such big dreams for a pretty little thing like you,’ Phantomon laughed, extending the scythe he held in his hands towards the shivering Salamon.  
Her breath hitched in her throat as Phantomon tipped her chin up with the flat of the blade, cold metal an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation.  
‘My Lord,’ Phantomon said, eyes narrowing once again at the flash of gold at Salamon’s neck. ‘A Holy Ring.’  
‘I am aware,’ Myotismon nodded.  
Phantomon’s gaze flicked between the pair, and Salamon could see him thinking, muttering as he drew the blade away.  
‘Can you fight?’  
Before she could answer, Myotismon spoke.  
‘She has no attack.’  
Phantomon’s eyes grew wide for a moment before narrowing again.  
‘How ridiculous.’  
‘I can learn to fight in other ways!’ Salamon insisted, voice turning to a squeak once again.  
‘Not with a weapon,’ Phantomon told her.  
Salamon frowned, her face set into a look of stoney determination.  
‘Why not?’ she asked.  
Phantomon lowered his scythe again, pointing the tip of the blade towards Salamon’s front paws.  
‘You have no hands to hold a weapon with.’  
Faltering, Salamon glanced up at Myotismon who had an amused smirk on his face and arms folded over his chest.  
‘I will when I Digivolve!’ she shot back, glancing over him. ‘And you’re one to talk!’  
Phantomon let out a chuckle at this.  
‘Humour will get you nowhere, little one.’  
‘If you Digivolve,’ Myotismon said, echoing one of his previous statements.  
Another chuckle came from Phantomon and Salamon scowled at him, turning back to Myotismon as he spoke again.  
‘Phantomon, at the end of your group training sessions, I will send Salamon to you for a private lesson. You can teach her to defend herself since she can’t attack yet. Maybe if she learns to dodge and run fast, she’ll last five minutes here’  
The pair both stared at Myotismon blankly.  
‘My Lord…’ Phantomon began.  
‘I hope you're not trying to argue with my orders, Phantomon?’  
‘No, my Lord,’ the spook sighed, dipping in the air in his own form of a bow.  
‘Very good. She can start tomorrow.’  
‘As you wish, my Lord.’  
Myotismon picked Salamon up again, placing her in the crook of his arm.  
As he turned to leave, Phantomon stayed in his bow, waiting until his master was a good distance away before turning back to his troops. Even with a good distance between them, Salamon could here the wavering voice yell orders at the Digimon.  
‘You’d better remember which way we came out, you’ll be coming alone tomorrow,’ he told her as they walked away from the training ground and towards the steps of the castle.  
‘I think I do,’ she mumbled, curling into his arm.  
‘Good. We can take a detour back then.’  
‘Wha- why?’ Salamon stuttered, staring up at him.  
Unfaltering, Myotismon continued, entering the main hall of the castle but otherwise keeping silent.  
Salamon looked around. There was dust over the floor with one clear path running horizontal to the doorway where the pair stood. There were two smaller wooden doors each end of the tracks in the dust and Myotismon headed for the left hand one.  
‘Myotismon?’ Salamon whispered.   
‘From now on, you call me “master” or “my lord” is that understood?’  
She shuddered but forced herself to nod her head, earning a glare turned down at her.  
‘Yes… Master.’  
‘You need to learn the layout, and you'd better learn it like the back of your hand.’  
‘Paw.’  
Myotismon glared at her again and she shrunk back into his chest.  
‘I will show you the first time, but don't think it will be a habit.’  
‘Of course,’ she whispered, making no more comments as he explained and walked.  
For now, she had the run of the place, until Myotismon felt it was appropriate and she could hold her own enough for her to join the ranks. He told her that the general populous of his soldiers camped in tents and huts on the grounds between the inner and outer walls of the castle. Phantomon and the rest of the officers had rooms in the east wing of the castle. Days started at dawn, or an hour before in the winter when sunrise was later. It ended when each general said it ended. You ate when you were told to eat. You slept when you were told to sleep. There were two major gates in and out of the castle and six minor, all equipped with guardhouses which were monned around the clock. There was a schedule of which troops would be on duty and when or you could be assigned extra guard duty by your general if you were late to training, didn’t put in enough effort, answered back, misbehaved, or if your commanding officer simply didn't like you.  
‘Will I be scheduled?’ Salamon questioned as they headed back inside.  
‘What would be the point?’ Myotismon asked with an eyebrow raised. ‘If something tried to get through, you wouldn't put up much of a fight.’  
She huffed through her nose. He didn't have to keep reminding her she was completely powerless. Then again, she should be thankful for a little teasing in exchange for being allowed to live.  
‘When I digivolve?’ she questioned.  
They had come back to Myotismon’s office by now, and he opened the door and set her down on the desk.  
‘Once again, if you make it that far.’  
She watched him as he sat down, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes, catching on his mask.  
Cocking her head to the side, Salamon jumped down from the desk, landing silently before padding over to her makeshift bed.  
‘Why do you even need an army anyway?’ she asked with a yawn as she turned, gathering the cloth so she could rest her head better.  
‘I have power, and with power comes many enemies. An army is personal protection, safeguarding my position.’  
‘Who would ever dare fight you?’ Salamon asked, finally settling down.  
‘No one.’  
‘So your army is obsolete?’  
‘No. There will be those who would try to destroy me. Having so many forces puts them off even trying… Theoretically.’  
It was the first time she had ever heard any hint of doubt in his voice and she craned her neck to see his expression. He was staring intently down at the wood of his desk, nothing in front of him.  
‘Myo- My lord?’   
‘There is one annoying pest, who thinks himself above his station, and thinks he could dare to stand against me.’  
‘Who?’  
‘His name is Devimon. A Champion level of all things. I will give him his due, he is strong. But the audacity he has to even attempt to challenge me. It would be like me questioning the Dark Masters.’  
She opened her mouth to speak, but before any words could come out, Myotismon rose to his feet, shoving the chair back, legs screeching across the stone floor, vibrating in Salamon’s ears and making her cringe.  
‘Stay here,’ he ordered, not looking at her before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
She flinched at the bang, burying her nose down into the cloth, staring at the door until sleep overtook.  
At least tomorrow she would be able to do something other than sit and be carried around like a useless pet. She knew she was a burden, and she knew the danger of not being useful. She would train, she would learn how to defend herself, and eventually, how to fight back, if it nearly killed her she would. She wouldn’t be powerless for much longer, she couldn't be. She wanted more than anything, not just to survive, but to prosper and flourish.


	3. Three

THREE

The next day started like every other that had passed, except Myotismon wasn't in his usual seat when Salamon awoke. She contemplated trying to find him, but didn't fancy wandering the castle by herself, not until she'd done a few training sessions with Phantomon.  
She wondered what he'd teach her, and if she'd be any good. Her determination to one day be training new recruits and to become a general was rising quickly, even in one night. Myotismon wouldn't have to carry her round and she wouldn't be afraid to walk alone.  
By the time Myotismon returned, the sun was already dipping in the sky, and Salamon’s apprehension that she would miss her first training session was apparent when Myotismon entered the room to find her pacing backwards and forwards across the room.  
‘I would prefer it if you didn't burn a hole in my floor,’ Myotismon teased as he sat down, a new book in his arms.  
‘Sorry,’ Salamon squeaked, stopping in her tracks and turning to stare at the Digimon.  
‘That was a joke, Salamon.’  
‘Oh,’ she bowed her head, cheeks flaring red.  
‘Phantomon will be ready for you in about an hour when he's sent his company away. You'd better not be late.’  
Excitement returned and she smiled.  
‘I won't be!’ She insisted. ‘Thank you.’  
He frowned at her.  
‘What for?’  
‘For arranging these sessions.’  
The frown deepened and a sigh escaped his dark lips.  
‘You're of no use to me currently. You're a burden and you get in the way. If you learn basic preservation skills, you can continue to exist in my domain. If not, you will have to leave.’  
Salamon gulped.  
‘You said the only way anyway leaves is if they're dead?’  
‘Then you'd better learn quickly.’  
‘I will, I promise… Master.’  
She saw him roll his eyes and frown. What was she doing wrong? She was desperately trying to follow everything he told her, remembering every order he gave.  
With another sigh, Myotismon got to his feet and opened the door, staring down at Salamon.  
‘Get going down to the training ground.’  
‘Yes master,’ Salamon said, remembering how Phantomon had bowed, copying before padding out, shuddering when she heard the door close behind her.  
The corridor looked so much bigger and longer without Myotismon’s figure filling it. Slowly, she began to step in the direction she was sure they'd gone yesterday.  
In truth, she hadn't been watching which way they had gone, but she wasn't in a rush to go back and tell Myotismon that.  
She fought her way through the castle nonetheless and arrived at the training ground to find Phantomon ordering the same hoard of troops as yesterday to do laps of the ground.  
Salamon hopped up into a stack of bricks and watched the Digimon, hearing them complain and puff and pant as they ran, or more fittingly, crawled their way round. More than once Phantomon had to poke the blunt handle of his scythe into the behind of stragglers, threatening them with the other end next time.  
After another half hour, Phantomon dismissed the group and Salamon watched them leave.  
‘What're you lookin’ at?’ A Gazimon growled as it walked past her.  
She frowned, pushing her nose in the air and ignoring his question.  
‘Canon fodder,’ another Gazimon said to its friend, glaring at Salamon.  
‘What?’ She asked, stepping forward on the brick pile to confront them.  
She wasn't sure where this brashness had come from, but it felt right. Unfortunately, the bricks beneath her said otherwise as they slid out from under her paws, sending her tumbling to the ground, the Gazimon roaring with laughter.  
‘You ain't gonna last a week, runt!’ One chortled.  
‘You two!’ The wavering tone of Phantomon came, cutting through the laughs.  
Salamon righted herself to find him next to her, scythe pointed towards the Gazimon pair.  
‘Since you're not in a rush to get to the mess hall, you can make yourselves useful and take yourselves to the north-east guard room. They're short staffed after Devimon’s goons attempted a raid last night.’  
Muttering to themselves, the Gazimon reluctantly turned and headed off, leaving Salamon and Phantomon alone on the training ground.  
Apparently ignoring her for now, Phantomon drifted to the middle of the ground, turning back to Salamon, eyes narrowing.  
He watched her for a moment and she stared back, timid, unmoving, and not sure what he expected of her.  
‘Diabolical Star!’  
Salamon cried out as the ball and chain at the end of Phantomon’s scythe began to glow, taking on a life of their own and hurtling towards her. Instinct took over and she threw herself ungracefully out of its way, instead letting it collide with the brick stack behind her she had previously been perched atop.  
Panting, shaking, she righted herself and stared at Phantomon.  
‘Very good,’ he stated simply, recoiling the chain.  
‘What did you do that for?’ Salamon half shouted at him, her struggle for breath muting her a little.  
‘You're more intelligent than half my current troop load already,’ he replied, ignoring her question. ‘Maybe you won't die as quickly as I first thought.’  
‘I'm not going to die at all,’ she barked, glaring defiantly.  
Phantomon chuckled at this.  
‘So you keep saying. But you have a long way to go.’  
‘Then teach me!’ Salamon begged, ears pinned back and face set in determination.  
‘Since I’m being ordered to train you, I have no choice. But trust me, if it were my decision, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on you. You may have determination and heart, but that alone will not get you to your goal. There are far too many better than you and above you who can fight.’  
‘So everyone keeps saying! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?’ Salamon asked, the fur on her back beginning to bristle as she got more and more frustrated with the spectre.  
Phantomon chuckled again, advancing towards the little Digimon.  
She saw him move his hands at the base of the scythe and instinctively jumped to the side as he swung it down at her, sending a rupture line through the ground.  
‘What you’ll come to realise, and it would do you well to learn it quickly, is that round here, there is no hope, or belief, or dreams,’ Phantomon told her, wrenching the blade from the ground.  
Salamon almost faltered, panting heavily for breath as she glared him down.  
‘Just you watch me!’ she growled, trying her best to mimic the tone she had heard Myotismon put on so often in the past weeks.  
This time, Phantomon didn’t call an attack, just butted her across the side of her head with the blunt end of his scythe, knocking her to the ground and making her vision fade to grey for a few long seconds.  
‘You’d do better not to answer back either,’ she heard Phantomon hiss before she gave into the fuzziness in her head.


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

When she woke, she felt the familiar warmth and scratchiness of the blanket she slept in on the floor of Myotismon’s office. She wasn’t sure how she had gotten back here, but her first thought was that one day, she would pay Phantomon back for every hit he landed on her.  
Getting to her feet, Salamon stretched as she looked around the room, finding Myotismon behind his desk once again. She yawned audibly, attracting his attention.  
‘How was your training session?’ he asked with a smirk.  
She made an annoyed snort as she padded over to him, climbing up onto the desk via a stack of books and an open draw.  
‘You’ll get there,’ Myotismon told her, moving her to the other side of the desk by the scruff of her neck.  
She glared at him, earning an intense stare back.  
‘When?’ she asked,  
With a sigh, Myotismon closed the book in front of him and turned his full attention to her.  
‘What do you mean “when”?’  
‘I mean when will I become stronger? When will I digivolve again? When will I be able to smack Phantomon back?’  
Her last comment earned a small smile from the Ultimate.  
‘I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, and neither does anyone else. Only time can tell when you will evolve to the Champion stage, never mind Ultimate. As for your strength, that will only improve through hard work and training, hence your sessions with Phantomon.’  
She took in the information, only disappointed by his explanation.  
‘When did you become an Ultimate?’ she asked eventually.  
Myotismon’s expression suddenly turned hard and his jaw clenched. If looks could kill, Salamon would be dissipated into the atmosphere in a cloud of data already.  
‘Do not forget your place,’ Myotismon warned through clenched teeth.  
‘I’m sorry,’ Salamon squeaked quickly, bowing her head, hoping it would appease him if she was learning and remembering how to present herself around him.  
‘My past is none of your concern. Ask anything like that again and I will lock you in the dungeons to rot. Understand?’  
‘Yes, my Lord.’  
There was silence as he glared at her for a few moments longer until she shrank back and pressed her ears flat against her head and her stubby tail tucked between her legs.  
‘I suggest you go down to the kitchens and get yourself some food. Tell them I sent you.’  
‘I’m not hungry,’ Salamon lied.  
In truth, she didn’t fancy the idea of walking through the castle alone, even if her stomach silently grumbled at the thought of food.  
‘Fine then,’ Myotismon challenged. ‘I order you to go and eat something.’  
She knew it wouldn’t be wise to argue with an order, so reluctantly, she bowed her head and hopped down from the desk, Myotismon following her to the door to open it for her.  
‘Take your time,’ he told her as she stepped out.  
The door thundered close behind her and she shuddered. Once again, the corridor seemed an infinite number of miles long whilst she was the only one in it. Cursing her size and small legs, she made her way down to the kitchen, waiting for someone to come out so she could slip through the door undetected.  
Once inside, she faltered at the expanse of the kitchen. Even being apparently void of activity at the moment, for which she was thankful.  
Salamon dared to step further inside, the smells and heat soothing her senses and sending a shiver of excitement through her. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea coming down here after all. As that thought crossed her mind, however, she saw a flash of green and grey making its way across the kitchen.  
Salamon suppressed a gasp and ducked behind the nearest object she could find – a large wooden table, as to avoid whoever the mon was.  
‘I know you’re there,’ a croaky voice sang.  
It had originated from the green clad Digimon, their face obscured by a silver tray adorned with an ornamental tea set.  
‘Don’t even think about trying to sneak any food, or I’ll make sure your rations get cut for the rest of your miserable existence.’  
Her voice was far too chipper for the threat to be real, but still Salamon stayed hidden.  
There was a clatter of the tea set being placed on the table above her and a strange noise that Salamon couldn’t place.  
‘Got cha!’ the Digimon chirped, bending her head below the table, a broom in hand.  
The mon was old, with a wiry mass of grey hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head. Equally grey bangs fell over and hid her eyes and a high neckline of her dress half concealed a set of stitched lips.  
‘Well hello little one,’ she crowed, smiling at Salamon warmly.  
The smaller Digimon receded further under the table with wide eyes.  
‘You’re new here. You look new. Just the type of little thing the Master loves playing with.’  
Salamon blinked, thoroughly confused by her rambling.  
‘My- Myotismon sent me to get food,’ she stuttered eventually.  
The womon nodded and beckoned Salamon with a bony, steeple nailed finger. Slowly, the pup crept out from under, to be lifted by the other Digimon onto the table.  
‘There, saves my back you being up there,’ she said, observing the tiny Digimon. ‘How fresh are you, Rookie? Your paws aren’t even dirty.’  
‘I’ve been staying in Myotismon’s study for the past… I don’t actually know how long.’  
‘Well aren’t you special? I’m Babamon, I’m head of the kitchens and Lord Myotismon’s personal cook – when he does eat.’  
‘Salamon. I don’t know what I am around here at the moment.’  
Babamon’s lips smiled again.  
‘You’re lucky is what you are if the master has taken such a shine to you.’  
‘A shine?’ Salamon questioned.  
Babamon nodded enthusiastically.  
‘Keeping you out of the ruckus of down here. It’s been at least a few decades since something like that happened.’  
‘What?’ Salamon choked, admittedly lost and finding it hard to take in all the information at once. ‘A few decades?’  
Just how old was Myotismon exactly?  
‘There was a Rosemon, I think thirty-five years ago. The master took quite a liking to her too.’  
‘Oh… Could I please have something to eat? I should probably be getting back to the master’s study,’ Salamon asked, wanting to get away from Babamon, slightly scared by her erratic demeanour.  
She didn’t think the old womon would harm her, but her nature was unnerving.  
‘Of course! I’ll give you something good. Soup we usually reserve for the officers.’  
The womon busied herself for a few moments, giving Salamon time to steady herself whilst Babamon’s back was turned.  
‘Have you been here the whole time then?’ Salamon asked as Babamon lay a bowl of steaming soup and a freshly baked roll of bread before her.  
Babamon nodded.  
‘I was an officer myself back in the day.’  
‘You’re an Ultimate?’ Salamon asked, sitting herself back on her hind legs and taking up the bread between her paws.  
‘Of course. Is that OK?’  
Salamon nodded her head, delicately, yet unsuccessfully trying to tear a piece of the bread off.  
‘How long have you been an Ultimate?’  
Babamon’s bangs creased and Salamon guessed she was frowning behind the veil of hair.  
‘About thirty seven years I believe. I was a Sunflowmon when I came here.’  
‘And when did you digivolve to Ultimate?’ Salamon asked excitedly, still trying to manoeuvre the bread.  
‘The first or second time?’ Babamon asked. ‘You know, most beast types don’t worry about table manners. You don’t have to be polite around me.’  
Salamon blinked, stopping in her tracks.  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘Just tear it with your teeth,’ the Ultimate replied.  
‘No I meant!’  
She was cut off by the door to the kitchens opening again and a Gotsumon and a Gazimon entered, Babamon greeting them by name as they walked over.  
‘You’re both early for once. Is it the day after never already?’ Babamon teased.  
The Gotsumon shushed her in favour of staring down Salamon on the table.  
‘What do we have here?’ the Gazimon asked as his friend elbowed him in the ribs.  
‘Leave her be boys. She’s under the master’s ward,’ Babamon warned.  
‘Of course she is,’ Gotsumon sneered.  
‘Little thing like that wouldn’t last two minutes if she wasn’t,’ Gazimon continued.  
‘You wanna bet?’ Salamon challenged, standing on all fours with her fur bristling.  
The pair immediately fell into fits of laughter at the Rookie.  
‘OK, OK, don’t glare us to death,’ Gotsumon laughed.  
‘We were just joking. A friend of Babamon’s is a friend of ours,’ Gazimon assured her.  
‘Just don’t start copying their tardiness,’ Babamon warned Salamon, firing an unseen glare at the pair.  
‘Like you were never late when you were a trainee,’ Gotsumon pointed out.  
Babamon nodded and agreed with a hum, turning and busying herself with the pots on the large stove behind the table.  
Salamon watched the three moving around and working as she carefully worked at the bread, not daring to manoeuvrer the soup yet.  
It wasn’t until she dropped the tiny piece she’d managed to tear off for the third time that Gazimon confronted her.  
‘What are you trying to do exactly? Other than make a mess?’  
Salamon half jumped at his question and shied away, Gazimon frowning in response.  
‘I’m… I’m eating,’ she finally replied.  
‘You’ve been watching Myotismon too much,’ he told her. ‘You’re a beast type. Don’t mess around with picking it apart.’  
To affirm his point, he turned his back and grabbed some bread for himself, shoving it in his mouth and tearing a bite out with his sharp teeth.  
Salamon frowned, put on edge by his mannerisms.  
‘I don’t think the master would approve,’ she pointed out.  
Gazimon snorted, shrugging his shoulders and pushing the other half of the food into his mouth.  
‘He’s humanoid, and stuck up,’ he said through chewing, spraying Salamon with crumbs more than once. ‘You need to follow your beast instincts… And learnt to eat fast around here, or someone will swipe your rations.’  
He made a grab for the rest of her bread as he spoke, Babamon slapping his hand as she noticed him.  
‘Leave the poor kid alone,’ she chided, putting the bread back down for Salamon.  
‘It’s OK,’ the Rookie assured the Ultimate. ‘I should be getting back.’  
‘You sure you can’t stay?’ Babamon asked with a kind smile, stitching pulling awkwardly at the action.  
‘Yeh, stay!’ Gazimon insisted.  
‘We’re going AWOL later, you should come,’ Gotsumon added from across the room.  
Salamon noticed Gazimon shoot him a glare.  
‘What’s “AWOL”?’ she asked.  
‘Never you mind,’ Babamon interjected before either of the Rookies could answer. ‘Don’t you two be leading her astray. The master won’t thank you for it when he finds out.’  
‘If he finds out,’ Gazimon challenged.  
‘Myotismon hasn’t discovered us yet. It won’t be any different if the dynamic duo becomes a dynamic trio,’ Gotsumon finished.  
Salamon followed the argument, turning her head to each speaker.  
‘The master always finds out. He’ll be biding his time to punish you.’  
‘Are you gonna tell him, Babamon?’ Gotsumon pressed.  
‘I don’t want to see my best boys replaced with idiots I have to lick into shape again.’  
‘Good!’ Gazimon grinned.  
‘But if you wanna come tonight, get away from castle life for a bit, meet us by the east side gate an hour after sundown – just don’t tell anyone where you’re going, or we’ll all be in for it,’ Gotsumon explained to Salamon.  
She nodded her head, hearing Babamon sigh loudly.  
‘Come on you pair, evening meal doesn’t make itself,’ the grey haired mon told the Rookies, clapping her ashen hands together. ‘And you, you look like a good kid. Don’t be led astray by these pair of idiots. You let them get themselves locked up for a week but you keep your nose clean. And if you ever want food, come find me.’  
Salamon nodded along, thanking Babamon for her offer quietly.  
As the small Rookie climbed down from the table, Gotsumon and Gazimon shouted a goodbye after her before she slipped through the – thankfully – open door.  
Remembering the conversation and threat Myotismon had given to her earlier, and everything she had just heard, made her fur stand on end a little as she made her way back to Myotismon’s study, thankfully once again not encountering anyone on her way, making her again question whether there really was an entire army around anywhere or if it was just she and Myotismon and the few Digimon she’d seen.  
She stopped at the bottom of the final staircase before Myotismon’s room, contemplating whether it was wise to return. Everything she heard about him scared her, but yet, behind closed doors, he was calm, if not a little intimidating. Of course, she’d seen him kill before, on their first encounter, the Dobermon she had been running from had no chance when Myotismon’s attack had hurtled towards him.  
Would she be at the receiving end of one of Myotismon’s attacks one day?  
Salamon shuddered at the idea and did her best to put the thought at the back of her mind as she ascended the stair case, tapping lightly at the door when she got there.  
It opened a few seconds later, Myotismon taking a moment to glance downwards at her tiny stature.  
‘What?’ he asked her bluntly.  
She stuttered, caught off guard at his reaction.  
‘Master,’ she said eventually, bowing her head.  
His eyes narrowed at her, glaring at the crown of her head.  
‘Back so soon?’  
‘Yes master,’ she replied, not raising her head. ‘Babamon sorted me out.’  
‘Of course she did.’  
Salamon didn’t respond, not knowing what to say to not annoy him further.  
‘You don’t have time to be lounging around here anyway. Get to the training ground.’


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE  
‘You’re not concentrating,’ Phantomon growled, not for the first time.  
Salamon huffed and righted herself from where the last attack had sent her flying.  
‘You’re being unfair!’ she shot back, glowering at the spectre.  
‘Life isn’t fair, runt.’  
She huffed again and stood waiting for him to attack again, but nothing came.  
‘It’ll be sundown soon,’ Phantomon observed, lowering his scythe.  
‘So?’ Salamon asked,  
‘So, I’m hungry and this session is over.’  
‘What? Why?’ the Rookie blinked.  
They’d hardly been going for more than an hour and the fact Salamon was still conscious was proof enough that Phantomon had been going easy on her.  
‘Unlike Lord Myotismon, I am no sadist, and simply beating you with no effort from you to fight back gives me no pleasure.’  
‘But-’ Salamon began to argue, stopped by Phantomon banging the handle of his scythe against the ground.  
She jumped at the bang and stared at him.  
‘You will leave, and tell Myotismon why exactly you are back early.’  
His blue eyes were narrowed at her from behind his hood and for a moment, Salamon dared to challenge him.  
‘Fine,’ she conceded eventually, bowing her head and sighing.  
What he had said was the truth. Her mind wasn’t fully committed to training tonight. There was too much going through her head and too many things being considered. In truth, all she wanted to do was return to Myotismon’s study and curl up in her familiar itchy blanket and sleep. She knew, however, after the argument, and especially returning early from training, Myotismon wouldn’t allow her to rest quietly.  
Maybe she could find somewhere in the castle to haul up for a few hours undisturbed?  
Her mind recalled what Gazimon and Gotsumon had said earlier and she figured a few hours with their antics would be better than facing the wrath of Myotismon.  
‘Hey Phantomon?’ she asked.  
The cloaked ghoul frowned at her familiarity but otherwise stayed silent.  
‘Where’s the east side gate?’  
His eyes narrowed again.  
‘Why?’ he asked, suspicion rife in his tone.  
Salamon spluttered for half a second before clutching at the first lie she could think of.  
‘I was told to meet someone there.’  
Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. However, Phantomon looked unconvinced and she swallowed thickly.  
‘Past the large tower. It’s a small gate but you can’t miss it,’ Phantomon finally replied, nodding towards a spired extension of the castle behind which was a different brickwork from the rest of the castle.  
Salamon looked and nodded, thanking him. She made the decision not to return to Myotismon’s study tonight, instead, she would wait for Gotsumon and Gazimon and go with them wherever AWOL was.  
‘You’d better get back to the master,’ Phantomon told her, watching her intensely.  
She nodded, wondering if he could see right through her, or even if he could read her mind. Gods help her if he could. She wasn’t stupid of course, she knew Gazimon and Gotsumon had told her not to tell anyone because what they were doing was against Myotismon’s wishes, and she understood there would be consequences if they all got caught. But like they’d said, they’d never been caught before.  
‘Hello?’ Phantomon asked, cutting through her trail of thought and making her jump. ‘Do I have to march you back myself?’  
‘No, no! I’m going,’ Salamon squeaked, turning on her heels and half running back towards the castle.  
Instead of heading up to Myotismon’s study, however, she made her way back to the kitchens once again, slipping through the door, finding it a lot more active than earlier, with Babamon in the centre of the room ordering around several Digimon, including the Gotsumon and Gazimon from before.  
Salamon stayed out of the way, watching as the evening meal was served and the staff numbers quickly dwindled down to the three.  
This was when Salamon brought herself out of the hiding space she had found under a shelf behind the door, Babamon noticing her first.  
‘Hungry again, little one?’ she asked, a kind smile on her lips once again.  
Salamon quickly shook her head, glancing over at Gotsumon.  
‘It was… it was sundown a little while ago,’ she said loudly so the pair could hear.  
‘You’re not considering it?’ Babamon asked. ‘I told you to watch out for these two!’  
‘Alright!’ Gotsumon laughed, joining them by the table. ‘Let’s go have some fun.’  
‘You didn’t tell anyone did you?’ Gazimon questioned from across the room.  
Salamon shook her head.  
‘Of course not, you told me not to,’ she assured them.  
‘She’d do anything you told her,’ Gazimon said with a snigger, Salamon frowning at him.  
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’  
Gazimon shook his head, brushing her off.  
Babamon sighed at the conversation, calling the rabbit-ish Digimon over to the table.  
‘Since I can see I’m not going to get any help from you two, you may as well go to your little shindig early.’  
The pair loudly voiced their appreciation to her, high fiving each other at the news, Salamon watching with an amused smile.  
As they chattered, Babamon gave an unseen roll of her eyes.  
‘You just keep an eye on the little one. Make sure she gets back before the master notices she’s gone.’  
‘Myotismon won’t notice a thing!’ Gotsumon assured her.  
‘Come on!’ Gazimon said, pushing Gotsumon by his shoulders.  
Salamon followed them silently as they crossed the room, all of them bidding farewell to Babamon, the larger mons thanking her again.  
Once outside the door, their demeanour changed and they went silent, Gazimon turning to Salamon with a clawed finger pressed to his lips.  
‘Stay quiet,’ he warned.  
‘Until we’re out of the castle at least,’ Gotsumon added.  
Salamon nodded her head and followed them, thankfully not having to nearly sprint to keep up with them like she did when following Myotismon.  
They slipped out of a side door and kept to the shadows as they rounded one corner, both of them giving an audible sigh of relief once they were away from the castle wall.  
‘Is it really bad, what we’re doing?’ Salamon asked.  
‘Nah, everyone knows about these get togethers,’ Gotsumon replied.  
‘But at the same time, Phantomon and the likes of the officers will still kick your arse if you’re talking about them in front of him or the others,’ Gazimon explained.  
‘What about Myotismon?’  
The Rookies exchanged an uneasy glance but then shrugged it off.  
‘He wouldn’t find out. No one would tell him and even if they did, you’d get your rations cut for a week at the most.’  
Gotsumon nodded as his friend spoke.  
‘Nothing to worry about!’  
They crossed a small courtyard between the castle wall and the outer wall, the open archway of the east side gate in sight.  
‘So what exactly is this get together then?’ Salamon inquired.  
‘Damn you ask a lot of questions,’ Gazimon teased.  
She shrugged, copying their behaviour in hopes it would warm them to her more.  
‘I’ve never been outside the castle is all, not since before I came here and I don’t think that counts.’  
‘And you won’t be leaving again!’  
The three of them stopped in their tracks, looking all around for the owner of the familiar deep voice.  
As they turned back to the gate, a shadow flashed before them and the imposing figure of Myotismon towered above them.  
‘Lord Myotismon!’ Gotsumon and Gazimon chorused, both falling to their knees and bowing.  
Salamon, bemused, stared up at him with her mouth open.  
‘Just where do you think you’re going?’ he asked, ignoring their outburst.  
Salamon noticed his stare was fixed on the two larger Digimon and she found herself taking a few steps backwards, her heart skipping a few beats.  
‘Uh, no where,’ Gotsumon stuttered.  
‘We were just, uh, working off our dinner, uh, yeh, isn’t that right Gotsumon?’ Gazimon added.  
The animated rock pile nodded, agreeing in a loud squeak.  
‘If you’re going to be stupid enough to lie to me, at least have the courtesy of making it half believable,’ Myotismon sneered.  
The pair stayed silent, eyes fixed on the floor. Salamon stayed glued to the spot in fright as Myotismon cleared the space between him and the pair, both of them shying backwards and closer to the ground as he approached.  
‘Salamon’, he said, finally acknowledging her.  
‘Yes master?’ she whispered, mouth dry and the words stinging as they came from her lips.  
‘What did I tell you when you first came here? How do you leave once you are in my army?’  
Oh no. She shook her head and forced herself to swallow, unable to look up at him as she spoke.  
‘The only way you leave is when you’re dead.’  
Gazimon turned his head to stare at her, mouthing something she couldn’t understand.  
‘Now, be mindful how you answer this next question, Salamon.’  
She nodded and glanced over at the pair.  
‘Were these two trying to leave castle grounds?’  
‘We would never!’ Gotsumon exclaimed before Salamon could speak.  
‘Quiet!’  
The roaring voice made Salamon start to quake and searing tears brimmed in her eyes.  
‘Well?’  
‘No,’ she whispered, shaking her head and trying to push the tears away.  
With her eyes squeezed shut, she heard a heavy footstep as Myotismon came closer to her.  
‘Ow!’ she gasped as he lifted her by the scruff of her neck, ear pinched in his fingers.  
‘Don’t. Lie. To. Me.’  
She shook harder, twisting away from the pain of being held in such an awkward way.  
‘We all were,’ she replied finally, deciding taking the blame too would reflect better on Gotsumon and Gazimon.  
Instead, she saw them both wince.  
‘Well then.’  
All of a sudden she was back on the ground, nose buried in the dirt. She righted herself quickly, turning in time to see the fate of the Rookies.  
‘Grisly Wing!’  
An attack. If she hadn’t been so scared, she would have been awe stricken, wishing she could perform such a thing. Instead, she cried out, terrified as a swarm of black screeching bats burst from Myotismon’s cloak, hurtling towards the pair and surrounding them. They dissipated a few seconds later, no evidence of the two Digimon remaining.  
Without a word, Myotismon turned and quickly marched back to the castle, dissapearing into the shadows, leaving Salamon frozen where she had dropped.  
She felt her stomach contract and lurch painfully, forcing bile up her throat, burning as she swallowed it back. Her legs and paws began to tingle and her breathing choked, the tears she’d fought back earlier now falling thick and fast.  
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered through cries, eyes fixed where Gazimon and Gotsumon had once been.  
The pair had unnerved her, and teased her, but they hadn’t deserved that. They’d done nothing wrong. Why hadn’t she been punished too?  
She sobbed for what seemed like hours, apologising to the empty space over and over before wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her paw.  
She was exhausted and needed sleep. It wasn’t safe to stay outside, she knew that much. And like hell was she going back to Myotismon.  
Sniffing as a feeling of strange numbness came over her and the pins and needles in her legs gave way, she turned and headed back to the kitchens. Babamon needed to know what had happened to the pair, she needed to know what she’d done to them.  
Salamon’s mind greyed over as she walked, not remembering walking through the hallways and slipping through the door of the kitchen.  
Babamon was nowhere to be seen and Salamon started to feel nauseated as she stepped slowly to the table at the centre of the room.  
‘B-Babamon,’ Salamon said quietly, the words hurting with such a dry mouth.  
When no answer came, she repeated herself, only a fraction louder, luckily hearing a noise through an archway to the left of the stove, Babamon appearing a second later.  
‘Where are the boys?’ she asked when she noticed the tiny Rookie on the floor, her tone solemn.  
Salamon shook her head, choking, fresh tears streaming down her face.  
Babamon walked to her and picked her up softly, the womon’s smell and kind handling comforting.  
‘It’s all my fault,’ Salamon whispered through sobs.  
‘No, no, you can’t put that on yourself. They knew what they were risking,’ Babamon assured her. ‘You couldn’t have predicted their fate.’  
Salamon sniffed loudly, rubbing her nose with the back of her paw.  
‘Myotismon… Why didn’t he kill me too?’  
Babamon sighed, carrying the tiny Rookie to the corner and setting them both down on a few flour sacks.  
‘Myotismon plays games. He tries to infest your mind and twist you. He will seek out any tiny fraction of light inside you and he will turn it to darkness. It’s what he’s programmed to do as a Virus.’  
‘Babamon?’ Salamon asked.  
The womon nodded, squeezing her paw.  
‘The Rosemon you told me about… What happened to her? Did she escape from here?’  
Babamon sighed, taking a while to pick her words.  
‘She withered, as all flowers eventually do. She became old and grey. Myotismon didn’t find her useful anymore, or pretty to look at. It was his own darkness that had tainted Rosemon, and Myotismon leaching her life force that finally caused her petals to shed.’  
There was a pause and Salamon tucked her head under Babamon’s hand, the grey haired mon stroking gently behind her ears.  
‘He kept her close out of gratitude for the amusement she had offered him, but kept her underground so he didn’t have to keep looking at her face.’  
‘Do you think he felt guilty? That’s this knotting I’m feeling isn’t it? The sickness in my stomach. That’s guilt, isn’t it?’  
‘I don’t think Myotismon knows the meaning of the word.’  
There was silence again as Salamon stopped her crying and sniffling, the numbness giving way to an intense exhaustion.  
‘You have to try as hard as you can to hold onto your compassion and your light, little one. You cannot let Myotismon drain you or mould you into one of his minions. There’s something in you, Salamon. I think Myotismon sees it too, and that’s why he didn’t delete you, but the novelty will wear off.’  
‘Can I stay with you tonight?’  
Babamon nodded, stroking her again.  
‘Of course. Stay as long as you need. There will always be a safe place for you here little one.’


	6. Six

SIX

‘Fold it, like this,’ Babamon explained, pressing the gooey dough out for the third time and demonstrating to Salamon.  
The Rookie tried to copy, but once again her short legs stopped her from being able to manipulate the dough properly.  
With a defeated sigh, she sat back on her hind legs on the table, pouting.  
Babamon laughed softly, scratching her tentatively behind her ear.  
‘You’ll get there kiddo.’  
‘How do I make my legs grow?’ Salamon asked, half joking.  
‘You eat!’ Babamon replied with a smile, handing a sweet roll from the tray cooling on the edge of the table.  
Salamon tore into it gratefully, following the advice she was given about trusting her animal instincts. Babamon watched her contently, elbow resting on the edge of the table and chin atop her fist.  
‘You’re getting some meat on those bones finally,’ Babamon observed.  
Salamon blushed, glancing down over herself, noticing her front legs were noticeably thicker than they had been a few days ago. She hadn’t been moving a lot recently, being stuck in the kitchen.  
Thus far, she hadn’t had any backlash from hiding out down below, so she figured either Myotismon had forgotten about her, or he didn’t care. She didn’t mind either way if she was honest, just as long as she didn’t have to face anything like what she’d seen.  
‘I should probably go back to Phantomon’s training sessions soon,’ she mumbled.  
Babamon sighed, shaking her head.  
‘A little thing like you isn’t suited for battle. I don’t know what the Master is playing at trying to train you up.’  
Salamon shrugged, biting into another piece of the sweet roll.  
Suddenly, Babamon’s expression changed to a grin and she busied herself collecting water into a copper saucepan over the fire and laying out an ornate tea set on a silver tray. Salamon watched as she clattered around and bundled some strange plant leaves into a teapot.  
When the water had boiled, Babamon took a cloth and wrapped it around the handle of the saucepan, pouring the contents into the teapot and over the leaves.  
‘What’s that?’ Salmon questioned, teetering over the edge of the table.  
Behind her long hair, Babamon winked.  
‘The Master’s favourite tea. Always good if you want to sweeten him up before asking him something… Come!’  
Slightly dazed, she followed the womon from the kitchen and through the castle, walking the familiar route up to Myotismon’s study. She shuddered as they rounded the final corner and a knot began to twist in her stomach as they stood outside the door.  
Taking a few steps away as Babamon knocked, Salamon hoped he wouldn’t answer. She wasn’t ready to face him again after the events with Gotsumon and Gazimon - she didn’t think she’d ever be ready to face him again after that.  
‘Come,’ the familiar deep voice barked from inside.  
Babamon balanced the tray in one hand and opened the door, nodding her head for Salamon to follow. Timidly, she did, hiding behind Babamon’s skirt and not daring to even glance up at Myotismon as Babamon set out the tea set on a side table.  
‘Tea, My Lord?’ she asked nonchalantly, lifting the pot.  
He ignored her and from the corner of her eye, Salamon glanced at him. His eyes were fixed downwards, burning a hole into the manuscript before him, his jaw was clamped tight, fangs indenting into his bottom lip.  
When he didn’t respond, Babamon poured the tea from the pot into the cup and placed it on the desk across from Myotismon, a quiet “chink” chimed as delicate china hit solid wood.  
Babamon stayed stood behind the desk, unseen eyes challenging Myotismon’s blatent ignorance.  
‘You may leave,’ he finally told her, glare unmoving. ‘And take your pet too.’  
Salamon flinched and ducked behind the side table leg, hearing the teapot protest above as she disrupted the stand.  
‘My pet?’ Babamon asked. ‘Now you know that’s not true, Master.’  
‘What do you want, Babamon?’  
He finally let out a sigh and sat straight, a glare and pursed lips settling on the old womon.  
‘I would like to request permission to keep Salamon with me in the kitchens. She has been useful these past few days and since you’ve taken away two of my staff, I’m in need of at least another pair of paws.’  
Salamon admired her willingness to challenge him. Babamon would be an amazing mentor to her, she was sure of it. Myotismon didn’t want her anymore, so Salamon could stay down in the kitchen and learn from Babamon. It would be perfect. No more Phantomon, no more getting people into trouble…  
‘No.’  
The blunt reply visibly made Babamon stumble, bangs crumpling as she frowned.  
‘She’s of no use to you up here-’ she began to argue.  
‘Quiet!’ Myotismon snapped, hands slamming against the desk as he rose to his feet. ‘She is mine to do with as I wish’, he growled, eyes bearing down at the womon.  
‘Lord Myotismon please, at least until she is a Champion. You’ll burn her out.’  
‘So she can learn to become like the rest of your kitchen boys? Idle? Lazy? Tardy? Incompetent?’  
‘You know they’re a damn site more competent than those brutes you have parading around the training ground!’  
At this, Myotismon fell silent, stare burning with anger at Babamon. Salamon retreated further under the table, quivering subconsciously. She was afraid of Myotismon, of what he would do to Babamon for daring to challenge him.  
After a few moments, silence dragging them out uncomfortably long, Myotismon rose and rounded the desk, perching in front of Babamon. An exaggerated sigh came from him as he lifted the tea cup, making a show of smelling the drink and taking a delicate sip, keeping the cup raised when he swallowed.  
‘You’re skills are slipping, Babamon… Remind me what I keep you around for?’  
Babamon’s jaw clenched tight enough for Salamon to notice from across the room. At her side, ashen hands balled into fists.  
‘You know very well,’ Babamon said in a low tone.  
Myotismon smirked, glancing down into the cup, swirling it in his hand before cocking his head to one side.  
‘You’ve become so thorny in your old age,’ he murmured before tipping the tea above her head.  
A gasp escaped Salamon’s lips as hot tea poured over the pale haired mon. Babamon seemingly stayed still and silent, the tea thankfully cooled enough not to burn her. It was only her cheeks that burnt from embarrassment.  
Salamon’s stare flicked between Babamon and Myotismon, neither of them saying a thing for a few moments before Myotismon placed the teacup back on the saucer on his desk, taking his seat and sliding the cup towards Babamon.  
‘You may leave,’ he told her.  
Keeping quiet, Babamon turned on her heels, leaving the tray and going to the door. She opened it and waited for Salamon to scamper over.  
‘Not you.’  
Salamon faltered, staring at Myotismon with wide eyes.  
‘I didn’t agree to you working in the kitchens, did I?’  
Salamon shook her head. It was true after all, and he’d been very clear about it.  
She glanced up to Babamon with a pleading look, but the womon only shook her head and let out a small sigh.  
‘When you grow bored of her, she will always be welcome in the kitchens,’ Babamon told them both before exiting, shutting the door hard behind her.  
The bang echoed through the corridor outside, as did Babamon’s slowly silencing footsteps.  
Myotismon ignored Salamon as she stood, frozen in the spot Babamon had left her in. She was unsure what to do, or say. Before, she would have settled at his feet, but she had a feeling if she tried something like that now, she would be kicked away. She knew how violent he could be now, and she was keeping out of his striking zone. She had a feeling she would have to be a lot more wary around him now.  
‘You’ve missed a lot of training,’ Myotismon said eventually.  
Again, she was unsure how to respond.  
‘Yes sir,’ she decided on with a small nod of her head, ears pressed against the sides.  
‘I think I will have to have some one on one sessions with you to bring you back up to speed.’  
She blinked, missing a beat.  
‘W-what?’  
‘In fact, there’s no time like the present,’ he said, a smirk suddenly plastered over his face as he rose to his feet. ‘Come!’  
She had no option when he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, ear caught under his fingers causing her to yelp in pain.  
He took her far down into the depths of the castle, lower than the kitchens and deeper than she’d been before. Along the way, her cheeks burned with embarrassment as Digimon they passed stared and whispered amongst themselves, Myotismon snapping at them to get back to work before he punished them.  
Finally, they came to a halt at the top of a roughly carved flight of stone steps. They were in a large cavern and as Salamon regained her balance and orientation after Myotismon tossed her to the floor, she observed the structure. There was water dripping somewhere, close enough to hear but too far to see. There was little light, and Salamon strained her eyes to make out anything beyond the bottom of the steps.  
‘Where are we?’ she asked, forgetting the situation for a moment.  
‘It used to be a natural spring hundreds of years ago, but the water dried up and the castle was built from the rich materials harvested from under here… Or so I’m told.’  
She stepped precariously to the edge of the top step, stretching her neck and opening her eyes as wide as they would go.  
‘Phantomon informs me you still haven’t been able to attack, but you’re competent at avoiding getting hit.’  
She turned to him to find him stood closer than he had been, the tips of his boots almost pressing against her toes. She jumped, and resisted the urge to step backwards, remembering the long way down behind.  
With a flick of his wrist, a red stream of pulsing electricity formed in his hand, sending a red glow around the cavern.  
Salamon gulped, the red flashes she’d only seen the once somehow burning her eyelids as she blinked, remembering the death that had accompanied that bloody stream when he had used it, and then, when his other attack had finished Gazimon and Gotsumon.  
‘Master…’ she squeaked, shaking too much to raise her voice any higher.  
Despite there being no distance between them, Myotismon trod closer, forcing Salamon to retreat down a step.  
‘Let’s see just how good you are.’  
She expected the lightning to hit her, but instead, she felt the underside of his boot connect painfully with her face, pushing her already unsteady body back and tumbling down the stairs.  
Unable to cry or shout or scream, her mind seemed to almost blur out the pain and with her eyes squeezed shut, she didn’t see the cavern spinning around her or the twisted purple smirk above her.  
When she eventually slumped to a stop however, the pain was intense. Winded, she choked for breath, lungs and ribs screaming for her to stay still, legs refusing to support her weight. Her head span and she felt bile churning in her stomach. It hurt, and she couldn’t recall anything ever hurting so much in her life.  
A quiet cackle came from the top of the steps.  
‘Pathetic.’  
‘No!’ a voice she wasn’t sure was her own until Myotismon’s surprised expression said otherwise.  
Gritting her teeth, cursing the pain, cursing the one who inflicted it, she got to her feet. Her eyes shut tight as she fought back stupid tears she waited for another strike.  
‘No?’  
Salamon shook her head.  
‘I’m still standing!’ she barked.  
She glared at the vampire Lord, wishing she could hurt him and make him feel the searing pain she was in, wishing she could wreak vengeance for Gazimon and Gotsumon. But all she could do was stare, and bare her teeth, and hate the one who had hurt her with a burning rage.  
For a moment, the pair stared each other down, two wolves ready to tear the other's throat out.  
‘Those eyes,’ Myotismon snarled.  
‘Huh?’  
The statement caught Salamon off guard. Her ears cocked back before she shook her head. This was no time to be pathetic or curious she reminded herself.  
‘Every time you look at me with those eyes I shall have to hurt you,’ Myotismon warned.  
Without hesitation, and before she could question, not know what look he meant - as far as she was aware, all she was doing was glaring at him as anyone would - Myotismon raised his hand, wrist flicking again and the red electricity flickering into the air. The stream bolted against Salamon, reaching out to its target, crackling and fizzing as it burnt her fur and scorched her skin below.  
She was unsure how to react, not sure if she was more angry or in pain or whether to cry or curse Myotismon with every bad word she had learnt whilst helping in the kitchens.  
Then again, what would be the point? He would just attack her and punish her again, and the next time, it might be worse. She should count herself lucky she wasn’t like Gazimon and Gotsumon.  
She resigned herself to bowing her head, hiding the tears that were pooling in her eyes as Myotismon recalled his whip, the smell of ozone fizzling into Salamon’s nostrils.  
Apparently content with her reaction and her punishment, Myotismon let out a quiet laugh, the small sound reverberating around the cavern, Salamon not daring to look up at him.  
‘From now on, no more slip ups, no more hiding in the kitchens and trailing at Babamon’s skirts. You are to be a soldier, not some house critter. I have no need for pets.’  
‘Yes master,’ Salamon said with a nod of her head, still keeping her eyes turned down.  
‘Go to my office. You’ll be starting early tomorrow to make up for what you’ve missed,’ he told her.  
Repeating her previous statement, she waited until he had turned his back before beginning her painful ascent up the stairs, legs and ribs complaining with every step and eyes and forehead stinging from Myotismon’s strike as she wiped sweat from her brow.  
Myotismon had disappeared by the time she reached the top so she decided to take her time going back, skipping the stupid thought that crossed her mind to visit the kitchens.  
Myotismon was right, and he had been clear about why she was here and why he had saved her those weeks ago. She was still reluctant though. Her ambition to become an officer had all but been forgotten during her days in the kitchen with Babamon, the admittedly easy workload appealing to her a lot more than training with Phantomon and being around Myotismon’s volatile personality. Maybe from now on if she just kept her head down and did exactly as she was told she would avoid getting anymore punishments, and especially getting anyone else hurt or killed.  
She wasn’t sure when she had reached the study, but was relieved to find the door open and her blanket still where it had been left.  
Wincing with pain, she tried to get comfortable, ribs aching as she tried to lay her usual way so settling instead on lying on her back, paws ungracefully sprawled beside her at awkward angles. But it didn’t hurt, and slowly, after twenty minutes of jumping at every sound, expecting Myotismon to storm through the door at any moment and attack her again, she drifted into sleep, nightmares which took form in the shape of a tall, blond figure plaguing her and making her toss and turn and sweat.


	7. 7

Days turned to weeks, weeks dragged to months, brimming on the turn of the eighth moon since Salamon had come to be in Myotismon's service. Still, she had not digivolved, but she was stronger both mentally and physically in comparison to how she had been when she'd first come. She'd been punished several times, but the want to cry and to act like a child had long since faded. Instead, now, every time Myotismon's Crimson Lightning struck her, every time he cursed her for the way she looked at him, every time she was kicked or beaten, it fuelled a fire inside of her to be better and to be perfect.  
'We're done for the day,' Phantomon told her, lowering his scythe.  
'Ten minutes more,' she demanded, panting, rubbing sweat from her brow with the back of her paws.  
'It's nearly sundown, you know the Master doesn't allow you to be out past sundown.'  
Salamon scoffed, shrugging her shoulders in defeat.  
'Fine,' she mumbled.  
Turning, both she and Phantomon bowed their heads as they realised they were being watched by Myotismon himself.  
'My Lord,' Phantomon said.  
'Master,' Salamon added, eyes lowered to the ground.  
'Phantomon is right, Salamon. But you should also save your strength for your mission,' Myotismon told her, a glimmer of an amused smile pulling at the corner of his darkened lips.  
'Mission?' Salamon asked, staring up at Myotismon with wide eyes. 'What do you mean?'  
'You'll be accompanying SkullMeramon on a recruitment mission.'  
'Master, I don't think she's ready - she still can't muster any sort of attack-' Phantomon quickly explained, floating forwards and gripping his scythe.  
Myotismon glowered at him, the spectre silencing and resuming his bow immediately.  
'I didn't ask your opinion, Phantomon.'  
'Yes My Lord,' he muttered.  
Still shocked by the news, Salamon watched their exchange in silence, a strange feeling of uncertainty rising through her small body.  
'Come,' Myotismon told the Rookie before turning.  
'Yes Master.'  
She walked at his side, chewing at the inside of her lip nervously as she went.  
'Something playing on your mind?'  
Myotismon's voice made her jump. She shook her head and slowed her pace.   
'I think Phantomon's right. I don't think I'm ready to go out.'  
'Then you'd better get ready. You leave the morning after next at sunrise.'  
Of course, there was no arguing with him. It was stupid of her to even voice her concern.  
‘Where are we going now?’ she asked, deciding the best thing to do would be to change subject.  
As she snuck a glance upwards, she saw her master seemed to be amused by her careful play of the situation.  
‘First, I need to have a word with whoever was on guard duty last night.’  
“A word” meant someone was going to end up rotting in a dungeon or being killed.  
‘Oh?’ she asked, ears pricking up at his tone.  
‘A small raid struck the west gate in the early hours of this morning.’  
She missed a beat, picking her pace up again quickly.  
Myotismon noticed however, throwing her a sideways glance.  
‘Devimon, once again daring to think he can stand against me.’  
‘Him again?’ Salamon asked with a grimace.  
She didn’t know him, and Myotismon never really spoke of him, but whenever an attack on the castle happened, Myotismon was always unsettled and in a mood for a few days after, mostly taking his annoyance out on Salamon and the lower recruits.  
‘Yes, him again. Sending some rather pathetic Vilemon to try and lower the defences. Thankfully, they were stopped, but they would have been defeated a lot quicker if those on guard duty last night hadn’t been drinking previously.’  
His jaw tightened at the last statement and Salamon’s own nose wrinkled.  
‘Idiots,’ she mumbled.  
She heard an unexpected chuckle from Myotismon and glanced up just in time to see the amused look dissapear from his face.  
They’d crossed the courtyard and were at the out building of the castle which housed the dormitories of the lower ranks, the officers bunking in various rooms and apartments throughout the castle, the opposite end to Myotismon’s office.  
Salamon had only been inside twice before, hating the place each time. It was cramped, twelve recruits sleeping in each room, not all of them with bunks. The smell was atrocious, the wash room infrequently used, half the showers broken and the troops apparently finding better use of their time than showering.  
The door opened at Myotismon’s knock, a wide eyed and visibly nervous Prairiemon opening the door, bowing to Myotismon as he stepped over the threshold, Salamon following a few steps behind him.  
‘They’re this way my Lord,’ Prairiemon said quietly.  
He glared at Salamon as Myotismon walked away down a long corridor, the beast Digimon following behind.  
‘My Lord, if I might ask what she is doing here? As far as I’m aware, she has nothing to do with this.’  
Without missing a beat, Myotismon’s Crimson Lightning was drawn, and he had spun to attack Prairiemon, Salamon instinctively flinching and expecting pain. Instead, she heard Prairiemon let out a howl beside her as he was sent hurtling into the wall head first.  
‘My patience is thin,’ Myotismon growled.  
‘Yes my Lord,’ Prairiemon croaked as he got to his feet, a mix of data fizzing and blood dripping from a slash across his chest.  
Salamon let out a breath, throwing a glare at Prairiemon, mostly in annoyance that he’d made Myotismon use that awful attack.  
They resumed walking, Prairiemon leading them to a room where a group of five other various Digimon sat, all looking nervous, eyes half lidded and more than one rubbing their heads as the door slammed behind Myotismon.  
Salamon tucked herself out of the way in a corner as Myotismon approached.  
‘I hope you all enjoyed your little party last night,’ he began loudly.  
Another pained flinch crossed their faces at the noise.  
‘Because of your idiocy, the entire castle was put at risk of attack.’  
Salamon’s ears pricked up. Was Myotismon actually concerned for the safety of his troops?  
‘Do you have any idea how much of an inconvenience it is for me to have to recruit more soldiers because idiots like you can’t hold off a bunch of Vilemon?’  
So that’s why she was being sent out with SkullMeramon, to find Digimon to replace those that had been destroyed in last night's’ attack.  
‘I should lock you all in the dungeons and leave you to rot.’  
A worried glance was exchanged between the troops before Myotismon spoke again.  
‘Instead, I have decided to be merciful. You will clean the dungeons instead, and your rations will be cut until the end of next month.’  
Salamon couldn’t help but grit her teeth in anger, remembering those who had done a lot less and suffered a lot more than those before her now. She knew Myotismon wasn’t fair, and he often reminded her that life wasn’t in general, but still…  
‘If any of you are pulled up for discrepancies in this time, you will be severely punished. Do I make myself clear?’  
‘Yes my Lord,’ the group chorused.  
Without another word, Myotismon turned and left, Salamon following with Prairiemon glaring at her as she went.  
‘Useless imbeciles,’ Myotismon muttered as they exited the dormitories.  
‘You were very merciful towards them master,’ Salamon pointed out, picking her words carefully.  
‘My numbers are at some of the lowest they’ve been for quite some time. If my informants are correct, it would be unwise of me to destroy too many of them in wake of what is coming,’ Myotismon told her. ‘One or two idiots I can do without. A small section I can’t, even if they are only good for cannon fodder.’  
She nodded, not wanting to push her luck and ask any more questions on the subject. She felt disgust with herself agreeing with him that some of the Digimon in his service were so worthless. But she knew better than to argue and think differently to what Myotismon told her to think.  
‘Where are we going now?’ she asked as they stepped out into the darkness.  
She let out a shiver, not being out after dark for quite some time. She strained her eyes to see through the darkness, surprised night had fallen quite so quickly.  
With an exasperated sigh, Myotismon grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and lifted her, tucking her into the crook of his arm and continuing their journey back towards the castle.  
‘I can walk you know?’ Salamon muttered, cheeks burning in embarassment from the handling.  
‘I have other things I need to do tonight other than wait for your short legs to catch up.’  
‘So where are we going?’ she asked again.  
‘You’re going to meet SkullMeramon.’  
‘Who I’ll be going with on the mission?’  
Myotismon gave a nod of his head, Salamon seeing his chin move above her.  
As far as she could recall, she’d never met SkullMeramon before and wasn’t keen on doing so now, never mind going away from the castle with him. At least around the castle, and around Myotismon, she had surety and routine and was told what to do and when. Despite any punishment she may have inflicted on her, she was safe within those walls.  
When they had walked through the castle, a Digimon that Salamon presumed was SkullMeramon was waiting for them outside of a door into one of the larger apartments within the castle.  
Even from Myotismon’s arms, SkullMeramon rose a good foot and a half over Myotismon’s head, being almost double the size of his body sideways too. His skin was a bluer shade than Myotismon’s with darker hair in a mess around his metallic face. Beady eyes were set back from the sockets and seemed to float without pupils, unnerving Salamon since she wasn’t sure exactly where he was looking.  
Chains ran over his bare chest, crossing over his sternum and wrapping behind his waist at the top of his trousers.  
‘My Lord,’ a gruff voice sounded from behind a half open jaw, a few octaves lower than even Myotismon’s.  
Paranoia told Salamon that the mon’s eyes travelled down to her for a split second and she was sure he would be appalled that she was being carried like a baby in the Primary Village.  
SkullMeramon opened the door for Myotismon, revealing a plainly decorated, wooden clad room with minimal furniture. Everything seemed to be almost double the size of any other chairs Salamon had ever seen. An unlit fireplace was against one wall, a breeze coming down the chimney but still the room was strangely warm.  
Myotismon sat in one of the two oversized chairs, allowing Salamon to stay on his lap. SkullMeramon chose to stand, arms folded across his chest, feet securely planted on the floor.  
‘This is her?’ the mon asked.  
Myotismon placed a hand on Salamon’s head, making her jump a little but settling when he began to scratch behind her ears. A purr escaped her lips and she dared to look up at the brute as their master spoke.  
‘Salamon. She is on track to becoming an officer when she evolves - dependent of course - so she must partake in the tasks officers have to.’  
‘What use will she be other than a quick meal to those who oppose you?’  
‘If something as small as her can survive in my army, it will encourage those of a weaker disposition to enlist, thinking they stand a chance.’  
SkullMeramon gave a nod of his head, red pupils flicking down to the Rookie once again.  
‘She is not to be harmed, is that understood?’  
Atop her head, Salamon felt Myotismon’s hand tighten as he spoke before he resumed petting her. She unashamedly enjoyed the attention, feline instincts making her push her head into his hand, but something sat strangely at his sudden display of affection. Previously, Myotismon made it clear she was no pet, yet now he treated her as one. Surely any kindness like this would be better off hidden?  
‘Yes my Lord.’  
Despite having a set lip line made from metal, SkullMeramon somehow still managed to look like he was grimacing at the idea of babysitting for the weakling on his master’s lap. Salamon knew it, and she knew she was going to suffer for it come the departure for their mission.  
‘I’ll see you in my office before sunrise the day after tomorrow then.’  
Myotismon rose to his feet, tucking Salamon in his arm again. SkullMeramon bowed and opened the door, staying bent as he exited. Salamon didn’t dare try and glance back at him and tucked herself as close to Myotismon’s chest as she could as he walked, eyes suddenly struggling to stay open to the sound of his shallow, almost absent breathing.  
Somewhere between SkullMeramon’s apartments and Myotismon’s destination she must have drifted into unconsciousness. When she awoke to being shifted by Myotismon, she found them in the library. She had been placed on one of the wingback chairs and Myotismon was searching for a book, running his hand along the spines of a row, drawing one out not with his hand, but with a flick of his wrist and a concentrated glare.  
He came over to the chair, moving Salamon back to his lap as the book drifted behind him, settling into his hands when he had sat down.  
‘I thought you had other things to do?’ Salamon asked with a yawn, too tired to mind her cheek.  
‘Later,’ Myotismon’s simple reply came as his eyes scanned over the text.  
His eyes widened a little and the page turned without him touching it.  
‘How do you do that?’  
‘Hmm?’  
‘You can move things without touching them.’  
‘Telekinesis - I move them with my mind.’  
‘Can all Digimon do that?’  
Myotismon let out a breath through his nose.  
‘No,’ he replied shortly.  
Her brow furrowed, the concept not settling with her. How were Digimon as a species so variant in their abilities?  
‘Will I be able to do that when I digivolve?’  
‘I highly doubt it.’  
Her frown turned to a pout, earning a flick to her ear.  
‘There are different classes of Digimon. Certain types like myself display more control of their minds so exhibit forms of psychic abilities. Me, telekinesis and a level of hypnosis or mind control. Phantomon for example can practice clairvoyancy when needed although with so much death lingering around these ruins, he doesn’t listen to it so much anymore.’  
Salamon listened intently, fascinated by his explanation and annoyed at herself for being so ignorant of her own kind.  
‘You don’t have any inkling towards abilities of that sorts so it is very unlikely when you digivolve that you will suddenly develop them.’  
She cocked her head to look up at him.  
‘You had them when you were a Rookie?’ she asked, pulling as innocent of a face as she could muster.  
‘Yes,’ he sighed after a long pause.  
She grinned, hiding her smile, knowing she would get flicked again for her pushiness.  
‘Tomorrow you have the day off from training. You’ll need your rest for travelling,’ Myotismon told her.  
Salamon nodded, surprised by the lack of repercussions from Myotismon.  
‘And if you find any mon who exhibits any form of psychic abilities, I could do with someone like them so make sure to persuade them to join my army at any cost.’  
Her eyes narrowed but she understood. There must be advantages to having extra powers that not many others possessed.  
‘How do you know so much?’ Salamon asked when there had been silence between them for a few minutes.  
‘I’ve been around a while.’  
‘How long do Digimon even live for?’ she asked whilst on the subject.  
‘A lot longer if they stop asking annoying questions,’ Myotismon replied, sarcasm practically dripping from his tongue.  
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.  
Myotismon pursed his lips and returned his attention to the book accompanying Salamon on his lap.  
She followed his lead and looked over the page, dissapointed to find there were no illustrations of any form that she could pick up some form of context from. The letters and symbols were all still a mystery to her and she sighed, annoyed yet again by her own uselessness.  
‘When you get back from your outing, I shall start to teach you to read.’  
It took her a beat to realise the words had actually come from Myotismon.  
‘Th-thank you,’ she said, holding back a yawn.  
‘When you have learnt enough, you should spend some free time in here studying our world and our kind.’  
She couldn’t help but smile, even as sleep tried to take over.  
‘Thank you master,’ she mumbled, her head suddenly feeling too heavy and her eyelids sticking closed as she blinked.  
Myotismon placed his hand on her head, scratching her behind her ears as he had done earlier, helping Salamon drift into a dreamless sleep. The only other thing she was aware of that night was being placed into her familiar blanket before being left to sleep late into the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick “author’s note” to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! Please keep the reviews coming and let me know what you think! Also apologies for the slow pacing thus far - it will be stepping up over the next few chapters. I’m planning to take this up until the final fight with Myotismon (not going into VenomMyotismon) and Wizardmon will be making an appearance soon! Thanks for sticking with me this far


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admittedly completely forgot I hadn't uploaded the next seven chapters of this onto here so uh, yeh, mass upload for you all!

The door to Myotismon’s office burst open, Myotismon himself pacing through, face like thunder. He glared down at the disorientated Salamon as she rubbed her paws against her eyes and got to her feet.  
‘You’re late,’ Myotismon growled. ‘Get up. Sunrise was twenty minutes ago, you should be out of the gate by now.’  
‘H-huh?’ she asked, wincing at his tone.  
She’d been dreaming about being curled up in front of the warm fire in the library, the smell of books and dust surrounding her, ears being scratched by an unseen hand as she purred away.  
‘SkullMeramon is waiting for you by the main gate. I wouldn’t advise keeping him any longer.’  
‘What day is it?’ she asked, stretching out with no urgency.  
‘The day to get downstairs and go out recruiting with SkullMeramon. Now if I have to tell you to go once more I’ll throw you out.’  
Her eyes widened for a moment as she remembered the eight foot tall brute and that she would be spending the next few days with him, something she wasn’t looking forward to.  
She got to her feet, heading for the door, turning when Myotismon spoke to her.  
‘Don’t get yourself killed.’  
It was as close to sentiment as he would ever get and something inside of her appreciated it. Unsure exactly what to expect from the mission and her travelling companion, she vowed to herself before she left Myotismon’s study to do whatever it took to stay alive whilst she was out of the castle walls.  
Seeing the impatience on Myotismon’s face, she bowed her head and left, hurrying as fast as she could down to the main gate into the inner wall of the castle.  
SkullMeramon waited, with a Devidramon harnessed to a wooden cart full of sacks of supplied and a Karatenmon leading it. Beside him stood a Dinohyumon, none of them apart from SkullMeramon acknowledging Salamon’s presence.  
‘You’re late,’ SkullMeramon growled. ‘Get in the cart,’ he continued when Salamon opened her mouth to apologise and make an excuse.  
‘I can walk,’ she protested.  
Ignoring her, SkullMeramon wrapped an oversized hand around her body and tossed her in, Dinohyumon letting out a scoff as she righted herself amongst the bags. Cheeks turning red in embarrassment and anger, she glared at SkullMeramon, inexplicably deciding that ticking him off was a good idea.  
‘Touch me again and I’ll-’  
She squeaked as the wagon lurched forward, Karatenmon having slapped Devidramon at the top of his hind leg and the winged beast starting forward.  
The cart was bumpy, only slightly improved when they left the cobbled road away from the castle and hit a dirt track through the forest. Was this where Myotismon had found her? None of it looked familiar and she swore it was much too dark even with the morning sun overhead - then again, she didn’t recall a time when the castle was bathed in sunlight. It had been warm the day she had been attacked by Dobermon but since then, she’d forgotten what the light felt like on her skin.  
SkullMeramon, Karatenmon and Dinohyumon talked amongst themselves as they descended the hill that the castle stood atop. Salamon stayed silent, a pout stuck on her lips and eyes fixed straight ahead. Every time she tried to stand, the cart would judder, sending her tail overhead and forcing her to stay planted where SkullMeramon had shoved her. She realised now Myotismon was surprisingly patient with her.  
It wasn’t long before the early start caught up on her and she drifted off to sleep, only awoken by an overzealous laugh from SkullMeramon an hour or so later. Glaring at him, she pressed her paws against the sack beneath her and settled back down, letting out a loud sigh.  
‘You’re not going to spend this entire trip asleep are you?’ either Karatenmon or Dinohyumon asked loudly - which one she wasn’t sure since Salamon hadn’t bothered to figure whose voice was whose yet.  
‘Since you won’t let me walk, there’s nothing else I can do.’  
She knew being polite to them would probably get her further and make this mission go quicker, but being rudely awoken had put her in a foul mood and after none of them had made an effort to be accommodating to her, she wasn’t going to play nice to them.  
‘You may as well hop out and head back to the castle then,’ she was sure Dinohyumon said.  
‘I’m sure the master would be thrilled with all of us if I did that,’ she grumbled.  
‘Maybe not with you,’ Karatenmon added, his voice shrill and exactly how Salamon expected a bird type to speak.  
‘He commanded me to go with you as I expect he commanded you to put up with me coming. It’s not my fault so don’t take it out on me!’  
With a huff, she turned away and plonked herself facing away from the mons upfront.  
Instead of the silence she expected, she heard a laugh chorus behind her.  
Ear twitching in annoyance, ignoring the sensible part of her brain that told her not to intimidate those who were ten times her size, Salamon turned back around.  
‘And what is so funny?’  
‘Oh you’re a hoot Rookie,’ Karatenmon said through laughs, staring back at her over his shoulder.  
She made a noise halfway between a groan and annoyance. This was going to be a long journey and she didn’t even know how long she would be out here for.  
‘Hey, when will be going back?’ she asked to no one in particular.  
‘When we’ve filled our quota,’ SkullMeramon replied bluntly.  
‘Quota?’  
‘Yeh, we have to recruit a certain amount of troops or more,’ Karatenmon explained.  
‘Oh,’ Salamon mumbled, letting out a quiet sigh again.  
‘It doesn’t usually take too long to hit it though. There’s always some suicidal idiots lurking around little back village taverns.’  
‘Speaking of which, we’ll be at the first overnight in an hour,’ Dinohyumon told them, nodding his head forward.  
‘Hmm?’ Salamon asked. ‘We’re not travelling any further?’  
‘No point,’ Dinohyumon replied. ‘The villagers know we come to recruit every other month or so. They’ll come find us and we get an easy night.’  
‘They’re not all like that though. Some of the other villages require a bit more persuasion.’  
Salamon frowned at Karatenmon as he spoke.  
A scoff came from SkullMeramon, only deepening her confusion. When no one spoke again, apparently too amused at their own joke, Salamon settled back down, resigning herself to staring ahead once again, watching Devidramon’s head bob up and down as he walked.  
Thankfully, the time passed more quickly than she thought it would, and the dirt road gave way to well trodden smooth stone, the trees dispersing to flint buildings built into and around a crumbling city wall.  
‘What is this place?’ Salamon asked, traversing her way to the front of the cart to get a better view.  
‘It had a name sometime, but no one cares anymore. It’s all Lord Myotismon’s domain now,’ Karatenmon replied.  
Salamon glanced over to SkullMeramon, wondering why he was so quiet all the time. She watched as he took the lead rein of Devidramon from Karatenmon, leading it still with her in it across a small clearing in the buildings and around the back of one building where it was then passed over to a group of panicked looking Gekomon.  
Salamon hopped out of the cart just before it got dragged into a half covered stable, following SkullMeramon through a door he was almost too wide to enter. They were in a tavern, with benches and tables and chairs laid out away from a bar. On the seats were numerous Gekomon, Goblimon, Meramon, Otamamon, as well as the usual Gazimon.  
Salamon noted they were all Rookies, like herself, yet hadn’t Myotismon said that Rookies were no good for his army?  
SkullMeramon paid her no heed, walking over to a large bench where Karatenmon and Dinohyumon had already sat down and were drinking already. Salamon made her way through the tavern, careful not to get stood on by a Meramon as he got up, and jumped up onto the spare seat on the bench next to SkullMeramon, then climbing up onto the top of the table when she realised she couldn’t see over the top whilst on the seat.  
Karatenmon placed a small cup in front of her and she took a sip, grimacing at the sharp taste and placing the cup back down.  
‘What is that?’ she asked before trying to gulp down the awful taste it left on her tongue.  
‘Fermented fruit,’ Dinohyumon replied.  
‘Isn’t that when it starts to go mouldy?’  
The Digimon let out a laugh before taking a gulp of his own drink, Salamon wondering how he could stomach the taste.  
After his third cup, Salamon guessed easily, and was convinced of this a few hours later, when darkness had fallen outside. Karatenmon, Dinohyumon and, contrary to his quiet demeanour earlier in the day, SkullMeramon were now chatting loudly amongst themselves, joking with the drinkers in the tavern, taking down names of those who in their drunken mindset had agreed to join Myotismon’s army.  
Salamon watched the events unfold, picking at bread as it was brought to them, not daring to eat anything else for fear of it tasting as bad as the drink.  
As rain began to drip down the window panes, the door to the bar opened and a large beast type Digimon walked in, shaking themself off in the doorway. Salamon watched the black pawed quadruped sniff at the air, no eyes to be seen under the mask over its snout and forehead. Its head cocked to the side and, even over the noise, Salamon heard the growl rumble in its chest. Behind it, its metallic tail flicked from side to side and her beast instinct told her it was ready to attack. Glancing around the tavern, she tried to pinpoint its target, but saw no one looking at the Digimon in fear.  
‘Who is that?’ Salamon asked SkullMeramon, headbutting his lower arm hard to get his attention.  
Thankfully paying attention to her, SkullMeramon’s red eyes glanced over to the newcomer, his face suddenly changing and his personality seeming to sober in an instant.  
Slamming his cup on the table, the wood splintering in two, SkullMeramon got to his feet.  
‘Hide,’ he told Salamon, his gruff voice unable to whisper too quietly.  
At this, her heart began to race and she jumped down under the table, hidden behind SkullMeramon’s broad back as he advanced towards the Digimon by the door.  
‘Reppamon!’ SkullMeramon bellowed, and if the wind and rain hadn’t already been shaking the walls of the tavern, it might have made the whole building quake. ‘Back for another round?’  
‘You know you shouldn’t be here,’ the four legged Digimon hissed from an open but unmoving mouth.  
Salamon’s breath hitched in her throat as she snuck back again behind Dinohyumon’s legs under the table, everyone’s attention now on the two by the doorway.  
‘Oh no! Oh no!’ a group of Gekomon chorused from behind the bar. ‘Don’t fight! Don’t fight!’  
Salamon could see SkullMeramon was slightly unbalanced, thanks to the drink she guessed. Reppamon placed a hind foot backwards, teeth bared at their opponent.  
‘You know if Lord Myotismon commands, I walk wherever I wish,’ SkullMeramon challenged, eyes blazing brighter.  
Karatenmon and Dinohyumon went to SkullMeramon’s side, Salamon panicking and finding another hiding spot further away from the fight she was sure was about to break out.  
‘You know that tyrant has no power here.’  
‘Lord Myotismon rules this continent,’ Karatenmon crowed, feathers bristling.  
‘There are rumours,’ Reppamon told them, head lowering. ‘That the Agents of Homeostasis have found a way to defeat him… And those he works for.’  
Salamon strained her ears to hear from her hiding place beside the bar, frowning at Reppamon’s speech. What was Homeostasis? And who did Myotismon work for? As far as she knew, he was the ultimate power here, with the likes of Devimon below him.  
SkullMeramon let out a low chuckle.  
‘The Agents were all destroyed.’  
A scoff came from Reppamon, the eyes on its tail half closing almost as if it were smiling too.  
‘It only takes one.’  
SkullMeramon, apparently bored of the interaction suddenly lifted his foot, attempting to kick Reppamon square in the face. The overgrown weasel jumped atop the bar gracefully, avoiding the attack and sending SkullMeramon off balance, landing face-up on the floor with a thud.  
Salamon let out a squeak as the bar erupted into chaos, the Digimon around jumping from their seats and attempting to flee, if not get as far away from the fight as possible.  
Karatenmon and Dinohyumon grappled their way onto the bar, both lunging for Reppamon who comically dodged, letting the slow reacting pair headbutt each other and fall from the bar top onto the still floored SkullMeramon.  
‘Get off me you idiots!’ he growled, shoving them off and pulling himself upright.  
The air around the brute began to ripple as his body began to burn, his hair standing on ends as he readied himself to attack.  
Salamon stared wide eyed as Reppamon span, the blade at its hind end slicing at SkullMeramon. Again he was sent stumbling back, this time tripping over Karatenmon on the floor.  
Reppamon let out a laugh as they faced the three on the floor.  
‘If this is the best Myotismon has to put forward, Homeostasis has no fight!’  
As their tail stood upright, ready to attack again, something overcame Salamon. She felt a heat around the gold band at her neck - what had Myotismon called it? A Holy Ring?  
The feeling spread into her heart and her belly and she climbed up a still standing stool by the bar, coming out of her hiding place to pace across the bar over to Reppamon.  
‘Stop!’ she yelled, coming out as more of a squeak thanks to the nervousness alongside her sudden courage.  
‘Huh?’ both Reppamon and SkullMeramon asked in unison as they glared at the tiny Rookie.  
‘Get away,’ SkullMeramon commanded.  
‘Stop fighting,’ Salamon snapped back, the light of her Holy Ring growing brighter. ‘You’re outnumbered four to one, Reppamon, and backup is less than a day's walk away. Start a fight with us and Lord Myotismon will send his entire army to seek revenge.’  
Unseen eyes stared at her, flicking between the determination on her face and the glowing ring at her neck.  
‘What’s a Holy Beast doing in his army?’ Reppamon hissed, disgust apparent in their voice.  
‘Huh?’ Salamon asked, distracted by what they’d called her.  
‘You… you traitor!’  
Anger overtook her now, her nose wrinkling as she bared her teeth. Reppamon snarled back, back end lowering.  
‘You’re an abomination of the Light. No matter how small you may be, a traitor like you cannot be allowed to continue to exist.’  
She wasn’t sure what Reppamon meant, her mind too clouded with anger and the feeling her Holy Ring was instilling to process the words that came from Reppamon’s mouth. Salamon knew, however, she had no form of attack, no way to shut the stupid thing up and teach it a lesson for daring to confront them and speaking against her master. She knew it was only a matter of time before Reppamon attacked her though, and her suspicions were proved correct when the larger beast leapt up with their front paws on the bar to snap at her with large teeth.  
Salamon let out a yell, dodging, falling off the back of the bar, stared at by a frightened trio of Gekomon who had taken refuge behind the structure as she righted herself.  
A moment later, the bar was shattered in half by Reppamon’s tail, just missing Salamon’s head but showering her with splinters nonetheless. She fell, holding back a cry of pain, risking keeping her eyes squeezed shut for longer than she knew she probably should have. Rolling over, she decided her best chance of staying alive would be to evade Reppamon and get back to SkullMeramon.  
Reppamon sniffed amongst the wreckage of the bar, giving Salamon a chance to slip out the side, finding herself meeting with Reppamon’s back end.  
She panicked as the blade of its tail caught sight of her, eyes narrowing and focussing its tapering blade on Salamon. The other end of Reppamon was still sniffing, biting through wood trying to snap at Salamon, unaware its tail had sighted her and was moving to attack.  
Before it had a chance, she jumped out of the way again, but with the bar to one side of her and the wall to the other, the only way she could go was under Reppamon’s legs.  
Closing her eyes again, she made a run for it, diving the last length and out of harm’s reach.  
She heard the metal of the tail swish through the air, and she was sure she almost heard a slice of something, but until she turned, found SkullMeramon and the others with her eyes, and then laid sight on Reppamon, she didn’t realise what had occurred.  
As she had run from its tail, the blade had swung to follow her, a miscommunication between it and the rest of Reppamon’s body. So intent to wound her, the blade had been unable to stop before slicing into Reppamon’s side, leaving a long, wide gash from hind leg to ribs.  
The tavern fell silent, Salamon, SkullMeramon, Karatenmon and Dinohyumon staring as Reppamon moved its head between Salamon and the slash on its skin.  
‘No,’ Salamon whispered as data began to fuzz around the wound and red blood began to stain Reppamon’s fur and taijitu markings on its hip.  
She’d only wanted to escape, not hurt Reppamon.  
Knees buckling as its data began to dissipate, Reppamon let out a gruff sigh as it fell to its side, staying very still as it faded from existence.  
‘I’m… I’m sorry,’ Salamon whispered, stepping towards the disappearing Digimon.  
She looked to SkullMeramon for reassurance - something to sooth her - but found nothing in his eyes. He only stared back silently.  
She pleaded to the rest of the tavern dwellers with her eyes, all brashness and confidence the glow of her Holy Ring previously giving her died and extinguished and replaced by the familiar emptiness, and a lump rising in her throat.  
As the last particles of Reppamon dissolved, she wanted to cry. Still no one moved, still no one justified her actions nor punished her. Why did she long for even a beating? Why was the emptiness inside stronger than she had ever felt? She hadn’t killed Reppamon, they had practically committed suicide, but then, if she hadn’t been so quick to save herself, Reppamon would still be alive. It was her fault they were dead. She’d caused the death of a living being. She was a murderer.  
Feeling bile rising in her throat, the room suddenly began to feel very small and stuffy and she needed to be alone. Panting, head spinning, Salamon made a sprint for the door, pulling it open by a rope hanging from the door handle. Unsure exactly where she was going or even what she was doing, she ran through the streets of the village as fast as her legs would allow her and for as long as she could until she swore her lungs were about to explode.  
Rain pelted down onto her back, and even under its icy coldness, she felt clammy and damp from sweat.  
Finding herself in a dark back alley, she paced between the walls either side of her, stopping finally to scratch at the Holy Ring around her neck.  
‘This is your fault,’ she growled, not sure if she was speaking to herself or the choker. ‘That stupid feeling you made me feel. Reppamon is dead.’  
At this, her stomach lurched and the acidic foam that had been churning in her stomach came up. She hissed and grimaced, crying at her own weakness, crying at what she’d done, crying at her hatred for herself.  
The crying got louder, sobs soon racking through her little body, from the very tip of her tail to the front of her nose.  
She tried to stop herself, but only got angry when the sobs continued and tears continued to cascade down her cheeks even as she dragged the back of her paw across her face several times.  
‘Stop being so pathetic!’ she growled to herself, throwing herself backwards against the wall behind her.  
The pain against her spine calmed her, letting her take a few deep breaths and stop the cries even if the tears still fell. Now she felt the cold rain against her, sinking through her short fur and making her shiver. She was hungry, tired, scared, and she wasn’t sure how to get back to the tavern. Would she even be welcome?  
Slumping further down the wall, sat flat on her hind legs, she let her eyes drift close, the pitter patter of rain soothing her to sleep. She didn’t care if she froze to death, or drowned. She didn’t deserve to wake up. Reppamon had been right. She was an abomination.


	9. Chapter 9

Was she dead? Why did she feel so warm? Was she back in Myotismon’s study? Or maybe the library, curled up in front of the fireplace. Her ears could hear singing somewhere in the distance and it roused her enough to open her eyes and struggle to her feet.  
Her first thought was the hunger squeezing at her stomach, but at least she wasn’t wet anymore. But still, where was she?  
Groaning, she craned her stiff to look around. Behind her was a giant arch shaped stained glass window. As she looked at it, red, blue, green and gold light showered over her, basking her in concentrated warm light. It filled her with a foreign sense of joy and contentment as she tried to make sense of the strange symbols depicted in the glass mural but alas, they meant nothing to her uneducated mind.  
Turning again, she found a long aisle lined by dark wooden pews either side. She was on some form of raised wooden platform under the window at the back of the empty building. Taking a cautious step forward, her stomach growled again and she fell to her back end as her legs began to shake too much.  
She sighed, remembering the events of the night before - had only a night passed? She wasn’t sure if it was from the hunger or the memory that made her start to feel queasy.  
It didn’t stay too long however, when a winged mon walked through a doorway off to the side of the platform.  
‘Salamon, yes?’ he asked with a kind smile as he approached, slowing when he saw her surprise.  
She nodded a small nod and struggled back to her feet. It was only as he stepped closer to her she saw he had a tray balanced against his hip, a blanket folded under it.  
‘How are you feeling? You don’t have a cold do you? You were outside for quite a while in the rain,’ the bi winged mon explained.  
‘What’s a cold?’ she asked.  
The mon laughed gently, sitting at the edge of the platform, laying the tray in front of her. There was an assortment of strange fruits which the mon invited her to eat.  
She looked over them, picking one up with her paw and placing it in her mouth, chewing and swallowing.  
‘Oh!’ the Digimon exclaimed, thankfully not too loud.  
He took the blanket from under his arm and gently placed it over her.  
‘Here. You need to stay warm still so you don’t get sick.’  
Salamon thanked him before picking off another piece of fruit. She hesitated, staring down at it before glancing up to the Digimon.  
His hair was the same colour as Myotismon’s, but much longer, the ends falling around his waist. He was clad in white with a pink cloth hanging from his waist. From the tip of his nose to his forehead was covered by a helmet and not being able to make eye contact sat uneasy with Salamon.  
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.  
She wasn’t sure where exactly her courage and fight from last night had gone, but she was glad it had. If it made her kill again, she never wanted that feeling back.  
‘Piddomon,’ he replied.  
After a pause, he continued.  
‘How do you feel, Salamon?’  
‘How do you know my name?’ she asked, knowing what his question meant, but unable to answer after the events of last night replayed over and over in her head.  
‘Digimon can often identify each other. Especially when they’re the same type or class.’  
‘Huh?’  
Piddomon’s lips momentarily pressed into a thin line but relaxed half a second later.  
‘Well, that ring around your neck tells me you are a Holy Digimon, potentially of the highest order.’  
She frowned, giving him a quizzical stare.  
‘Only a few Digimon have Holy Rings.’  
‘I wish I didn’t,’ Salamon grumbled, only just loud enough for Piddomon to hear.  
‘Why?’  
She hesitated, unsure of whether to tell him. As she decided on explaining, guilt twisted on her stomach, the fruit suddenly tasting rotten and leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.  
‘It made me feel… Brave. Warm. It made me hurt someone.’  
Piddomon craned his neck a little towards her to hear her quiet voice. His lips turned downwards at the corners, showing her a little sympathy.  
‘It’s a power that takes some time to control. You are still a young one, you’ll make mistakes.’  
She swallowed hard, shaking her head.  
‘Not these kind of mistakes.’  
Piddomon was silent and Salamon began to regret ever opening her mouth. Then, Piddomon placed a gentle, warm hand on her back over the blanket and patted her softly.  
‘This world is in a difficult time. It’s dangerous, and we all must do what we need to survive. One day, we will be forgiven for it.’  
‘And until then I have this horrible knot in my stomach… Guilt, isn’t it?’  
‘The day you stop feeling guilt for hurting others is the day you lose any chance for redemption. There are those who do not value life, there are those like me and my Order who believe all life is sacred, and there are those who have enough morality and humanity not to harm or kill.’  
She swallowed again, the taste in her mouth somewhat fading. She could still be a good person. She could try her hardest to be good from now on. She could go back to her training, or do as Myotismon told her and stay out of trouble. Hide whenever a fight broke out. Or was that cowardice?  
‘How do I get back to the Inn?’ Salamon asked, suddenly wanting to be back with SkullMeramon and the others - at least they were familiar.  
Behind his helmet, Piddomon’s eyes grew wide.  
‘I would avoid that place for today if I were you. There’s recruiters for Myotismon’s army and they prey on tiny mons like you.’  
Salamon’s mood suddenly changed. She couldn’t help but let out a giggle.  
‘I’m with them.’  
Piddomon blinked again, shoulders dropping a little.  
‘Oh, I see,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ll need to go across the square and down the widest street. You won’t miss the Inn.’  
‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Salamon said as she shook off the blanket, immediately missing it’s comfort.  
‘Look after yourself. And if you ever want to leave, there will always be a place for you here.’  
‘I can’t leave, even if I wanted to.’  
‘You don’t want to?’  
Salamon paused for a second, brushing the fur on her forehead down where it had been ruffled by the blanket.  
‘I was looking for someone, and I found them. Somewhere to belong,’ she explained.  
‘I find it hard to believe someone like you would be destined to work for someone like him.’  
‘Well who else could it have been? I have no one else, nothing else in this world. Myotismon saved me from certain death. I owe him my life.’  
‘He’ll take it as payment. No wonder your Holy Ring reacts the way it does if it has that parasite sapping into it with his corruption.’  
Salamon bit her tongue, remembering that Piddomon had helped her.  
‘Corruption?’ she asked with a frown.  
‘You don’t know about the legend surrounding the great “Undead King Myotismon”?’  
‘He doesn’t talk about himself a lot…’  
Piddomon smirked and let out a chuckle.  
‘I wouldn’t want to if I were him. Then again, if I were him, I wouldn’t have sucked up to the Dark Masters and would have suffered my descension with dignity.’  
‘What are you talking about?’  
Both of them jumped as the church doors rattled open. Clanking chains and heavy metal boots sounded and the room began to grow hotter.  
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ SkullMeramon’s gruff voice boomed down the aisle. ‘I thought you’d at least have the sense to come back to the Inn when it started pissing with rain.’  
‘You are in a church! Mind your language,’ Piddomon growled, rising to his feet.  
‘You have something that belongs to my master,’ SkullMeramon shot back, advancing forward and closing the long distance within a few footfalls.  
‘She belongs to no one.’  
From behind Piddomon, Salamon’s eyes darted between the pair. She watched with confusion as Piddomon seemingly stepped in front of her. Didn’t he understand?  
Rolling his red eyes, SkullMeramon wrapped one oversized hand around Piddomon’s helmet, tossing him to one side with a loud thump as he connected and slid down the wall.  
‘You coming?’ SkullMeramon asked.  
Salamon nodded without hesitation, sparing a backwards glance for Piddomon as she followed SkullMeramom to the door.  
‘What the hell were you doing in there?’  
Salamon shrugged, noticing SkullMeramon slowed his pace down so she could keep up with him.  
‘He gave me somewhere to stay last night.’  
‘I’d stay away from those religious old world nuts if I were you. They can’t understand that this world belongs to Myotismon now.’  
Salamon swallowed before daring to ask her next question.  
‘Myotismon and… the Dark Masters?’  
SkullMeramon stopped in his tracks.  
‘Did he tell you about them?’  
Salamon nodded.  
‘Well, don’t you give it another thought, and don’t you dare mention them in front of Lord Myotismon.’  
‘Huh? Why?’  
‘You wanna live, don’t you?’  
With that he began to walk again.  
She nodded again and decided to drop the subject. Maybe when Myotismon had taught her to read, she might find something useful about them in the library.  
‘Anyway, we got enough recruits from here. We just need to hit one more town and we can go back.’  
‘You said it would take a while.’  
SkullMeramon let out a chuckle, unnerving Salamon a little. He was unusually animated in comparison to what she’d seen of him.  
‘After your little display last night, everyone wants to sign up. What did I say? If a pipsqueak like you can survive in Myotismon’s army, anyone can.’  
Her murder had become an inspiration. Great.  
As they rounded a corner, SkullMeramon wobbled on his feet a little, rubbing one hand against his forehead. He was still drunk, or at least had one heck of a hangover.  
Thankfully, they didn’t go back into the tavern, instead going round back and finding the wagon awaiting them, Karatenmon, Dinohyumon and a harnessed Devidramon stood under the awning.  
‘Here she is!’ Karatenmon said, wings opened out to Salamon.  
She grimaced, turning her head to the cart.  
‘Why’d you run off last night? Scared that Reppamon’s ghost was gonna come for you in your sleep?’ Dinohyumom teased.  
She clambered up before turning to them.  
‘Shut up! I’m not proud of it and I don’t need to hear your jokes,’ she yelled, front paws balling into fists beneath her.  
The three exchanged looks, eyebrows raised where they could be. Salamon meanwhile, settled down between two bags, screwing her eyes shut and trying to block out the world around her. The lurching of the cart and rumbling over the cobblestones out of the stable yard made her feel sick and dizzy, like she had a hangover of her own. Swallowing back the bile in her throat, she took in a breath and tried her best to go back to sleep, not wanting to hear anything the others had to say. All she wanted to do was go back to the safety and surety of the castle, her blanket in the corner of Myotismon’s study, or to lay at his feet and smell the leather of his boots.  
She sighed, curling into a tighter ball, surprised the others hadn’t continued their teasing, but thankful all the same.  
The next few hours were spent drifting in and out of consciousness, demanding every so often to stop so she could stretch her legs and answer nature’s call, mortified to find the others weren’t half as discreet as she with where they went.  
‘Get over it,’ SkullMeramon said with a roll of his eyes as a hot cheeked Salamon clambered back into the cart.  
‘I’m over it! I just didn’t need to see that!’  
‘After all that time spent with Myotismon,’ Karatenmon piped up.  
Her eyes grew even wider.  
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she half yelled.  
The three exchanged a smirk and began to laugh, Salamon scowling at them.  
‘Shut up,’ she growled, deciding if this was the way the conversation was going to go, she would rather go back to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

They got back to the castle in the dead of night, travelling all of the next afternoon despite Karatenmon’s protests at how much his feet hurt.  
Their recruitment drive had been a success, meeting and exceeding their quota by an extra half. Once back at the castle, the new troops were sent off to be sorted into their dorms and who would have the unfortunate job of being their commanding officer.  
Bidding a quiet farewell to SkullMeramon and the others, Salamon padded slowly through the castle to Myotismon’s study. She knocked, half headbutting the door in her tiredness, only to find no reply.  
With a heavy sigh, she knocked again, wanting nothing more to get inside and sleep.  
Still no answer.  
Wondering whether she should try to find Myotismon - or someone to open the door for her at least - tiredness turned to hunger, but the energy to walk all the way back down towards the kitchen escaped her.  
‘Ugh,’ she mumbled, looking around for any life signs.  
Finally giving up, she slumped onto the ground, legs splaying in all directions as she allowed her eyes to drift closed and herself to slip into sleep.  
Short lived was the nap, when she felt herself being lifted and carried into the study by familiar hands.  
Purring, she curled into the leather of Myotismon’s gloves, not opening her eyes just yet, hoping to go back to sleep.  
‘You need to find your own room soon,’ Myotismon’s voice told her in a serious tone.  
‘Later,’ she purred, hardly comprehending what he had said.  
There was an annoyed noise from him as she felt him sit down and place her on his lap, stroking her curved spine.  
‘I hear you did well on your mission. The new troops looks promising.’  
‘The others did all the work,’ Salamon mumbled, not wanting to talk about the outing.  
‘I’ve been told quite the opposite. You’re an inspiration.’  
Salamon tucked her nose tighter under her paw, squeezing her eyes together, trying to suppress the memories.  
‘I’m almost impressed.’  
‘I’m not,’ she mumbled, realising he wasn’t going to let her sleep.  
‘Oh?’  
Uncurling and looking up at him, she shook her head.  
‘Someone is dead because of me.’  
Myotismon’s lips were already twisted into his usual smirk and it widened at her words.  
‘You’re training to be a soldier, and an officer. Do you really think you can get to where you want to be without anyone paying the price? Better them than you.’  
Salamon shivered and Myotismon resumed petting her.  
‘No one should die. Reppamon didn’t deserve to,’ she stated, wriggling away from his hand.  
He placed it on her again, stroking behind her ear.  
‘Reppamon had openly opposed me previously. Something needed doing.’  
‘You could have taken him prisoner. We could have captured him and brought him back here,’ Salamon suggested.  
A deep chuckle escaped Myotismon’s lips.  
‘How is a life chained up and barely existing better than death?’  
Thinking for a moment, taken aback by Myotismon having any concept of anything of the sort, Salamon shook her head.  
‘I guess it isn’t. But at least then there would be the hope of escape or one day being released.’  
His hand ceased, and went under her jaw, gripping the sides of her face firmly and twisting her head to look up at him.  
She winced in pain, letting out a pathetic, tired mewl.  
‘There is never hope, nor relief from the darkness. Once you are captured, you can’t escape,’ he told her.  
She had a feeling he was talking about a lot more than Reppamon, and she shuddered, trying to pull free of his grip.  
He released her, still staring at her, dark eyes glistening with the reflection of the candle flame on his desk.  
‘I met someone after the incident with Reppamon…’ she said quietly, scared of the outcome of the conversation she was about to approach.  
‘Oh?’  
‘Piddomon.’  
Myotismon’s lips twisted into a grimace.  
‘Of course it would be.’  
She missed a beat before continuing.  
‘He said something about you… and something called the Dark Masters.’  
For a moment, Myotismon’s eyes glazed over and his chest stilled as he stopped breathing.  
Salamon couldn’t help but feel fearful at his reaction.  
‘Not “something” but rather someone,’ Myotismon said finally, blinking hard, brow furrowing behind his mask as he idly moved some papers around on his desk.  
‘But, “Masters” implies more than one?’  
Salamon was suddenly awake, amazed Myotismon was even entertaining her intrigue.  
Myotismon nodded his head once.  
‘Who are they?’  
‘None of your business.’  
She’d had a lot of time to think about them on her travels, in the hours of silence after they had left the first town. She had a few theories, and was damned if she was going to just leave it alone, no matter the consequences.  
‘Myotismon, I want to know,’ she insisted, daring to stare him in the eyes.  
His jaw tightened, and atop his desk, a blank parchment piece crumpled in his fingers as he balled his hand into a fist.  
‘Don’t forget… your place,’ he growled.  
‘Who are they?’ she pressed, his reaction catching her off guard.  
Before she knew what was happening, she was crashing against a bookcase at the other end of the room, her side burning from where Myotismon had punched her.  
Myotismon was on his feet and heading for the door by the time she had righted herself, an intense pain setting in at her ribs.  
Instead of leaving, Myotismon wrenched the door open, hinges quaking as they struggled to stay attached to the doorframe.  
‘Get out,’ he ordered, glaring at her.  
‘No!’ she found herself shouting back. ‘Everytime I ask a question, you shut me down. I want to know. I have a right to know if whatever I’m asking about affects me.’  
‘It doesn’t - now get out of my sight.’  
She stood her ground, shaking with the adrenaline rush that had hit, tears stinging in her eyes for some reason she wasn’t sure of.  
‘What’s descension?’ she challenged.  
Myotismon’s eyes grew wide for a split second before he slammed the door shut and stormed over to her, trying to grab her again.  
Salamon leapt away just in time, backing herself into a corner, bookcase and wall behind her.  
‘Ask anything else and you’ll be locked in the dungeons for a long time,’ Myotismon warned her as he closed the gap, smirking at her.  
There was something more maniacal than usual about him. Whatever she’d started, it was something that hit a nerve with Myotismon, hard.  
As he reached down to grab her again, she snapped with her teeth, catching the side of Myotismon’s hand, feeling the sharpest of her teeth pierce through the leather and hit skin.  
Myotismon dropped her, surprised by her boldness, and astounded she’d drawn blood, her choking and spluttering on the substance bringing him to laughter.  
Pulling his glove off as Salamon sat back into the corner as far as she could, she watched him look over the wound.  
‘I am constantly impressed by your courage, Salamon,’ he told her, placing his hand to his mouth and licking the blood away.  
She cocked her head to the side as all trace of the wound faded, data fuzzing around the broken flesh and sealing it shut.  
‘But disappointed by your stupidity.’  
He picked her up and in her fear, she allowed him too.  
‘Are you going to lock me away?’ she asked meekly.  
He shook his head.  
‘No, I think bravery should be rewarded, with a taste of your own medicine.’  
Before she could ask what he meant, her head was being wrenched to the side, neck stretched out as far as possible over her Holy Ring. Myotismon pulled the band back and sunk his fangs into her flesh, dragging them across, tearing two channels around her neck, avoiding ripping her jugular.  
She screamed, kicking against him, wriggling as much as she could to try and escape. Dry sobs began to escape her lips, tears somehow holding back as Myotismon retracted his teeth.  
Dangling limply in his hand, his head still close to her as she felt the warmth of her blood and the cold of his breath creep down her neck and front leg.  
He let her bleed for a few moments, watching her struggle to keep her eyes open but otherwise fixed in her usual defiant glare. Then, almost as if he knew she was about to pass out, he ran his tongue up the streams of red matting in her fur before pressing against the two wounds.  
Salamon shuddered as she felt the data fizzle as it had done on Myotismon’s hand, a cold rush running from her toes to her tail tip.  
She whimpered again and bowed her head as Myotismon surprisingly tucked her into his arm instead of throwing her to the floor.  
‘Sleep,’ he told her, and all of a sudden, her eyelids felt like lead and it was a struggle to keep them open.  
‘Yes master,’ she mumbled, tucking her nose into his sleeve, the smell of the dried blood on her fur filling her nostrils and making her head spin.  
She didn’t feel him put her down, so guessed he kept her on his lap for the rest of the night. She was unsure how it made her feel, being close to him when he had just bitten her and half killed her.  
What little blood she had left in her body was thumping in her ears and twisting images in her head, making a figure appear. At first, she thought it was Piddomon, with two white feathered wings stretching from it’s back, but then, as the image manifested stronger, she saw it had fangs under purple lips as it smiled a twisted smile at her.  
She turned and ran, the figure leaping into the air and beating its wings, landing in front of her and blocking her path with no effort.  
It called her name, wings growing bigger and bigger and finally enveloping her as it walked towards her.  
The last thing she remembered was being smothered by white feathers, and the smell of blood before she jolted awake, panting and sweating in consciousness.  
‘Bad dream?’ Myotismon asked with a smirk.  
She was on his lap, and he was sat by his desk, chair pushed away. A book was in his hands and he looked down at her through the gap below his eyeline.  
Salamon rolled over, stretching out with a yawn.  
‘I can’t remember,’ she said, memory suddenly blank.  
‘Good,’ Myotismon said with a smile.  
A frown crossed Salamon’s face before she shook her head, scattering her suspicions.  
‘I’m hungry,’ she stated.  
‘Then go and get some food.’  
The effort it would take to walk down to the kitchens daunted her, and she shook her head.  
‘I’ll wait,’ she said.  
With a flicker of a smile, Myotismon rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
‘What are you reading?’ Salamon asked as she sat up and strained her chin to look.  
A knot in her neck twinged and she let out a hiss, placing her paw to it.  
‘Everything ok?’  
She nodded her head, massaging the knot.  
‘I guess I slept funny,’ she replied absentmindedly.  
‘Of course. It’s nothing interesting, just some theories on the formation of the Digital World and the first Digimon to exist.’  
‘Oh,’ Salamon mumbled, wondering how exactly that wasn’t interesting.  
‘You want to know what it says?’  
She blinked up at Myotismon, staring before nodding her head.  
‘I want to be able to read and understand.’  
With a sigh, Myotismon closed the book and placed it on his desk, picking up a scrappy piece of parchment with only a few words on it.  
‘Let’s start with something simpler than ancient history and magic.’  
‘Magic?’ Salamon asked, eyes lighting up.  
She earned a flick to her ear, softer than she would have expected but either way, Myotismon held the parchment in front of her on his lap.  
‘Let’s start with this word here.’  
He explained to her what each letter sounded like and how their pronunciation changed according to the letters that followed or preceded. He was surprisingly patient with her, allowing her time to think and remember what he’d taught and by the end of the night, she could read the first few sentences of the parchment somewhat fluently.  
As she yawned more and more frequently, and as the light outside grew brighter, Myotismon told her to sleep and she gladly obeyed, curling up in her blanket, breathing in deeply at the familiar smell, frowning at the disheveled bookcase in the corner before her eyes drifted closed once again.  
Thankfully this time, she wasn’t plagued by angels.


	11. Chapter 11

A few weeks passed, Salamon resumed her training, and slowly, the guilt of what she had done faded.  
A dull afternoon came, and she headed out to the training yard to find Phantomon, still admittedly half asleep which made her more confused than she should have been when instead of finding him yelling at Numemon who were dragging their slimey tails around the grounds as slow as they could, he was instead joined by SkullMeramon, Prairiemon, Nanimon and a handful of other officers Salamon hadn’t met.  
‘What’s going on?’ she asked loudly to be heard over the commotion.  
Phantomon nodded his head, signalling for her to come closer. Slowly, she did so, squeezing herself in between Phantomon and Prairiemon.  
‘Something’s been kicking off on File Island,’ Prairiemon told her.  
‘And over the other side of Server,’ Phantomon added.  
‘Devimon’s on File Island isn’t he?’ Salamon asked with a frown.  
‘Yeh, and he’s found something that’s really gonna throw a spanner in Lord Myotismon’s plans!’  
She glanced at Nanimon, ears twitching at the sound of his annoying voice.  
‘Like what?’ she questioned.  
‘Apparently, something that makes up a layer of File Island’s very core and can turn good Digimon bad,’ Phantomon explained.  
Salamon’s frown deepened.  
‘How the heck?’  
‘Load of Unimon crap if you ask me,’ SkullMeramon growled.  
She couldn’t help but smirk at his usual dismissive tone.  
‘But where is everyone? Was there no training today?’ Salamon questioned, taking another glance around.  
Phantomon shook his head.  
‘They’re all cleaning the castle in preparation for a visitor.’  
‘Huh?’  
She didn’t think Myotismon allowed anyone to simply visit the castle. She was certainly intrigued to say the least.  
‘The officers are gonna go watch,’ Nanimon told her.  
‘You’re allowed?’ she asked, hiding her disappointment that despite being in the castle close to a year, she still wasn’t an officer and still hadn’t digivolved.  
‘Of course. If anything, the Master requires our presence only to intimidate our guest,’ Phantomon told her, a playful smirk hidden under his hood.  
That definitely ruled her out then.  
‘I guess I’ll go back to the study then,’ she mumbled, turning to leave.  
SkullMeramon’s heavy hand stopped her.  
‘No chance. The Master’s lap dog is required to attend.’  
She snarled at the nickname, but glad her status allowed her into private affairs.  
The group began to dissipate and Salamon tagged along with Phantomon as he hung back.  
Floating along beside her, scythe shouldered, he glanced at her from under his hood.  
‘Nervous?’ he asked, making Salamon skip a step.  
‘Why would I be?’  
‘Stay quiet, only speak if you’re spoken to, and don’t do anything to embarrass the Master or make him seem weak.’  
‘How could he ever look weak?’ she asked absentmindedly.  
‘Exactly, that’s what everyone needs to think.’  
They entered the castle, making their way to the main hall, passing through a side door, up a flight of stairs, and into a long room with an ornate seat at the opposite end.  
‘Myotismon’s throne room,’ Phantomon muttered, apparently unimpressed by the dusty swags of red and purple velvet behind the seat.  
‘Rarely used?’ Salamon asked quietly, following him down the room.  
‘Bingo.’  
The officers separated into two groups, Salamon, Phantomon and SkullMeramon to the right of the throne and the others to the left.  
As she stood, breathing deeply, the musty smell of the drapes behind her found it’s way to her nostrils.  
‘Where’s Myotismon?’ she asked Phantomon quietly.  
‘He’ll be here.’  
Almost on cue, a door behind the throne hidden by the swags opened and Myotismon entered.  
Something about him was different, his suit seemed crisper, the black of his cloak shinier, and his boots and cloak clips were polished. Even the usual strands of loose hair that fell into his eyes were combed backwards.  
As he approached the throne, everyone bowed, Salamon daring to sneak another glance around the room with her chin lowered.  
Myotismon sat and his minions straightened. A feeling of anticipation sat heavily in the atmosphere and Salamon was sure everyone, including Myotismon could feel it.  
A pair of Gazimon had found themselves at the main doors, acting as footmon, and when a nod came from Myotismon, they opened the doors, revealing what Salamon guessed was the visitor.  
She felt a laugh bubble in her throat as she looked him over, knowing better than to dare make a noise. His appearance was that of a malnourished monkey, broad ribs poking out through an orange fur suit. He had a quiff of fur atop his head and a large, shockingly white smile. At his waist hung a Monzaemon doll and a pink sigil which both bobbed against his hip as he approached.  
It was Phantomon from Myotismon’s team who moved first, floating to the visitor’s eye level, scythe outstretch, stopping the monkey in his tracks.  
‘Now just what’s the meaning a’ this?’ the visitor asked. ‘Get outta ma way, Freaky-and-Floaty.’  
Behind Phantomon, Myotismon smirked and his eyes narrowed. The visitor’s voice was grating, almost sing song, and his accent was hard to place.  
‘You are in the presence of the great Undead King Myotismon, Lord and Master of the continent of Server and rightful ruler of the Digital World. You will bow before your approach.’  
‘A’ course.’  
Phantomon moved a little to the side and the stranger smiled a toothy grin at Myotismon.  
‘Ma Lord,’ he said, hand twirling in the air before he brought it across himself and dipped into a low bow. ‘I am Etemon, Digi idol a’ the Continent a’ Server.’  
Myotismon’s eyes flickered to one side, not quite an eye roll, but dismissive enough of the mon’s attitude as Etemon stood upright again.  
‘I’ve heard of you,’ Myotismon said, nodding to Phantomon as he spoke.  
The spectre floated behind a drape of material, returning a split second later with a gold and glass chalice filled with a thick ruby drink.  
‘Why are you wasting my time?’ Myotismon asked before taking a long sip, lazily licking a drop from the corner of his mouth.  
‘It a-seems that you and I have a ah, common enemy, am I right?’  
He took another sip before answering.  
‘I have several enemies, you’ll have to be more specific.’  
Etemon blinked, put out by Myotismon’s lack of enthusiasm.  
‘Well I ah, I am a-referring to that skinny, horned hunk-a mon on File Island.’  
‘Devimon? He poses no threat to me. He has no army, and a Champion couldn’t hope to oppose me.’  
‘He’ll be tha first when the a-Prophecy enacts. It’s only a matter of a-time before Homeostasis brings another buncha’ humans here.’  
Myotismon tapped a long finger against the side of his chalice, lips pursing as he contemplated what Etemon was saying.  
‘Now I wasn’t around tha last time, but I know tha Dark Master’s wiped tha floor with em, and they got more ta go through this time, but on the slight chance.’  
Something he’d said made Salamon’s head hurt and she had to sit down. Maybe it was just his voice? She was almost having to translate what he said as he spoke.  
‘Piemon has already put plans into motion,’ Etemon stated.  
‘Piedmon. I’m aware. The tags and crests. He’s hidden them. Without them, the Chosen won’t reach their full potential.’  
Etemon’s fur almost visibly puffed up as much as his chest as his grin widened.  
‘Actually,’ he said. ‘He gave me tha crests to hide, and Devimon tha tags!’  
‘What?’ Myotismon snapped, sitting forward in his throne and gripping his glass tightly. ‘Where are they?’  
‘Ehhe, I can’t a-tell yah that, ma Lawd.’  
Salamon saw the familiar flash of rage glint in Myotismon’s eyes. She waited for him to attack Etemon, but nothing came. Instead, he took a deep sigh, and relaxed a little.  
‘Where are you going with this?’  
‘Well, I was a-thinking, I’m by the coast and a-closest to File Island and therefaw Devimon. You have an army, and I need some a-help to lay ma Dark Network.’  
An eyebrow quirked behind Myotismon’s mask.  
‘Dark Network?’  
‘I can’t reveal too much. But it’ll stop them Chosen brats dead in their tracks.’  
‘How much help?’ Myotismon asked before taking another sip.  
Etemon pondered for a moment, tapping a finger to his chin.  
‘How many can yah spare?’  
Twisting his neck, Myotismon turned to SkullMeramon.  
‘How many Gazimon serve me?’  
The pair at the end of the room exchanged a wide eyed look.  
SkullMeramon faltered, counting under his breath.  
‘Forty two, at last count,’ Salamon said before she even realised her mouth had opened.  
She received a glare from the officers and a confused stare from Myotismon before he gestured for her to come to him.  
Slipping past the others, she hopped up onto one arm of the throne.  
‘Forty two you say?’ Myotismon asked.  
‘Yes master,’ she purred as he placed a hand atop her head and softly scratched behind her ears.  
‘Would half suffice?’ he asked Etemon.  
Bowing, Etemon nodded.  
‘More than enough ma Lord.’  
‘Perfect. And they will be returned to me once you and Devimon have dealt with the humans?’  
‘A course.’  
‘Good.’  
‘If that’s everythang ma Lord, ma fans are a-waiting for me,’ the monkey sang, bowing slightly.  
Myotismon scoffed.  
‘Wait a moment - we haven’t discussed payment.’  
Etemon looked taken aback, spluttering out an “excuse me?!” only to be hushed by Myotismon.  
‘Yah know my sell out concerts don’t rake in as much as yah woulda thunk.’  
Another chuckle came from Myotismon and Salamon saw his eyes glisten, flickering down to the monkey’s waist.  
Etemon’s hand followed his noticeable stare, hand reaching and covering the doll at his side.  
‘I see you haven’t hidden all the crests. What would Piedmon say if he found you had defied his orders?’  
Etemon gulped.  
‘You ain’t gonna tell him, are yah ma Lord?’  
‘That depends,’ Myotismon smirked, extending a hand towards the mon. ‘Payment,’ he demanded.  
Slowly, probably arguing internally as to whether hand it over or keep a hold of it, Etemon finally unclipped the crest and handed it over.  
Salamon craned her neck for a glance at the tiny object, frowning at the particular shade of pink and the symbol engraved into it. With a content smirk, Myotismon tucked the crest into a hidden pocket under his cravat.  
‘I do hope the others are hidden better.’  
‘A course! That one was just so pretty and goes so well with ma little Monzaemon here,’ Etemon explained, cheeks flushing red as he pulled at the doll on his waist. ‘It was just tha one. They can’t be that important.’  
The hand atop Salamon’s head suddenly became heavy and as he balled his hand into a fist, he trapped a few long hairs in his knuckles.  
‘You have no idea how powerful these crests and the tags are. They give Digimon the power to Digivolve at will. A Champion could become an Ultimate in seconds.’  
Salamon’s ears pricked up and her eyes grew a little wider at this information. If Myotismon had a crest in his possession, could it be used to help her digivolve?  
‘Apologies, I hadn’t a-been told.’  
‘No matter,’ Myotismon said with a nod, hand finally relaxing. ‘Now you may leave. If you wait by the main gate, your troops will be with you in twenty minutes. SkullMeramon will accompany you and make sure they all end up where they’re needed.’  
Salamon saw the brute glare at his master, knowing the task was punishment for not offering an immediate answer to his question earlier.  
‘Thank you ma Lawd,’ Etemon said, bowing again, the same over the top bow as the first.  
Myotismon nodded his head a little and Etemon turned to leave, the Gazimon opening the doors for him.  
Before he had stepped both feet out of the door, Myotismon had risen from his chair, Salamon narrowly avoiding being swept onto the floor by the flail of his cloak as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
Salamon frowned at Phantomon who jerked his scythe towards the side door.  
‘Follow him. SkullMeramon, Prairiemon, get onto the Gazimon. The rest of you, back to your posts!’ Phantomon barked.  
Salamon hopped down from the chair arm and followed Phantomon through the door, finding Myotismon stood in the middle of a small room, surrounded by something that had once been a table but was now flipped over, three of the four legs wrenched off and thrown across the room.  
‘How dare he?’ Myotismon roared, kicking the remaining leg of the table.  
Salamon ducked instinctively, suddenly filled with fear at his sudden change of mood.  
‘Piedmon, the bastard, entrusting something like that to an idiot like Etemon and a failed clone attempt like Devimon!’  
He spun around, back to Salamon and Phantomon, cloak twisting around him. Trying to unwrap it only frustrated him more and in one swift movement, he had torn it from his neck and shoulders, bat pins scattering across the room.  
‘Phantomon,’ he growled, turning again and stepping towards the spectre.  
‘Yes my Lord?’ he asked, bowing, eyes lowering.  
‘I want Piedmon here by the end of the week. You will send for him at once.’  
‘Yes my Lord.’  
Without hesitation, Phantomon left and Myotismon began to pace the room, growling and grumbling to himself.  
It wasn’t until he turned again that he laid eyes on Salamon.  
‘What?’ he snapped at her.  
She shied away, lowering her eyes.  
‘Nothing master,’ she squeaked.  
‘Don’t lie to me,’ he snarled.  
She chewed at her lip, trying to find the right words to ask but instead, found herself being pulled up by her ear.  
She squirmed, wriggling in the air.  
‘Ouch!’ she cried, feeling the skin and muscle pulling and stretching under her own weight.  
Myotismon didn’t react and she writhed more. She hadn’t done anything, why was he punishing her?  
‘Let go!’  
He continued to stare, smirking at her pain.  
‘Myotismon… Master please!’ she begged in one last effort.  
Her ear was red hot and she was sure it was about to tear off in his hand. Just when she thought her body was going to give up, Myotismon moved his hold to around her belly. It was still uncomfortable, but not painful at least.  
‘Ask me.’  
‘Huh?’ she asked, touching a paw carefully to her ear.  
She winced and shuddered, already feeling it swell under her paw.  
‘You had a question - do I need to punish you again?’ he spat.  
‘Could that crest thing make me digivolve?’ she asked quickly, venom in her voice at his persistence and lack of compassion for her pain.  
‘Ha!’  
He paced with her in hand, kicking at a broken piece of wood.  
‘It doesn’t make just any Digimon digivolve, idiot,’ he explained. ‘Only Digimon partnered with a human child.’  
‘Oh,’ she mumbled, unsure if she was disappointed or not, figuring there would be a catch.  
‘It relies on a power within the human, something stupid like courage or light. Humans have bonds with their Digimon which give them the power to evolve.’  
She listened, despite her hot ear and despite his erratic nature. It scared her more than usual, him acting like this. He was like a child having a tantrum, not that she knew what that was like. His hand around her was firm, a little tighter than what she could comfortably deal with but she didn’t fancy being hurtled across the room or ending up like the table.  
She wanted to press further, and ask who he had sent for, but she knew better.  
Myotismon kept a hold of her, continuing to pace for a long while until Phantomon returned.  
‘A letter has been sent to Lord Piedmon, master.’  
‘Good,’ Myotismon growled. ‘Now take her and get some food. You missed dinner because of that fool.’  
He put Salamon on the floor, his mood having seemingly subsided a little.  
Without needing to be told twice, the pair bowed and exited the room, walking in silence down to the mess hall which was thankfully empty.  
Phantomon got them food, Salamon avoiding Babamon these days for fear of getting her in more hot water - or tea.  
He set a full bowl and spoon down in front of Salamon at a bench and one for himself, breaking a loaf of bread between them.  
‘Thank you,’ Salamon mumbled before tucking in, hungrier than she realised.  
‘No problems.’  
They ate in silence again, both finishing at the same time but not moving from the hall.  
‘You have questions,’ Phantomon stated rather than asked.  
‘I think I’m learning to live with unanswered questions.’  
‘You shouldn’t have to. The rest of us know what’s going on, I don’t know why the master keeps you in the dark.’  
Salamon blinked at him. Was this a test? Why did he care what she knew or didn’t know?  
‘Well go on then, ask away.’  
Salamon sighed, shaking her head.  
‘It’s fine, honestly.’  
It was Phantomon’s turn to sigh. Salamon glanced around the room awkwardly, avoiding meeting glowing eyes.  
‘Alright,’ she finally said. ‘Myotismon explained about the crests, but who’s Piedmon? Why did Myotismon get so bent out of shape that Etemon got to hide those things? Why does he hate Devimon so much?’  
‘Ok whoa slow down!’  
‘Sorry,’ Salamon laughed, cheeks blushing red.  
‘Ok, Devimon, he hates him because of what he could possibly digivolve to and because despite him only being a Champion, he has the same power as an Ultimate like Myotismon. Basically, he’s a threat.’  
‘What can he evolve to?’  
‘Myotismon.’  
Salamon’s eyes grew as wide as the bowl in front of her.  
‘No?’  
Phantomon nodded in response, Salamon noticing the hood of his cloak crumpling as he grinned.  
‘One is bad enough, two would be a nightmare come true.’  
‘Exactly… So, moving on, Piedmon is… he’s the leader of the Dark Masters.’  
There it was, that feeling again, like a high pitched ringing in the back of her head that made her feel dizzy and sick.  
‘Are you ok? You’ve gone as white as a Bakemon.’  
Salamon nodded.  
‘Yeh, maybe we could pick this up after training tomorrow? I’m really tired.’  
‘Sure,’ Phantomon told her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
She thanked him and got down from the bench, bidding farewell before returning to Myotismon’s office, thankful to find he was absent and the door was left open for her.  
Not yet tired, she decided to practice her reading, jumping up onto the chair and then onto the desk. Myotismon’s genre of choice was ancient history once more, something about a fire hall - although that could have been fire wall - and a Digimon who lived behind it.


	12. Chapter 12

A knock came at Myotismon’s study door, disturbing Salamon from her state of somewhere on the brink of asleep and awake.  
‘Enter,’ Myotismon called, door creaking open to reveal Phantomon.  
The spook bowed, taking extra care to treat Myotismon with the respect he demanded, especially after several minions and lackeys had faced his wrath for daring to breath in his presence the past few days.  
‘My Lord, Piedmon approaches,’ Phantomon told him, chin still lowered.  
The source of all of Myotismon’s aggravation for the week; Piedmon. At the mention of his name, Myotismon’s jaw tightened and he ground his teeth together. Salamon had been on hot coals because of Piedmon’s impending visit, and being in Myotismon’s vicinity had resulted in a few kicks to the face.  
‘You will show him to the library. Make sure there is an acceptable decanter awaiting us.’  
Phantomon bowed lower, scythe dipping with him.  
‘Yes master.’  
‘You may leave.’  
Salamon did her best to take up as little space as possible and be as silent as she could, not wanting to be noticed by Myotismon. It worked for a few minutes, as he paced around the office, going to a bookshelf at the wall that backed against Salamon’s blanket, and removing some of the books that were there.  
Knocking at the wall behind, he finally pulled something out and then tucked a flash of silver in his belt under his coat.  
Curious as ever, Salamon couldn’t help but stare, catching Myotismon’s eye once he had replaced the books and turned.  
‘Yes?’ he snapped at her.  
‘Nothing!’ she gasped, jumping at his tone.  
He huffed, chewing at his lip for a moment. Salamon watched him, frowning as he thought.  
‘You will sit in on this meeting - discreetly. Stay out of Piedmon’s way,’ he told her sharply.  
‘Huh? No way!’ she argued, forgetting about his bad mood for a moment.  
Myotismon’s jaw clenched again and his pupils dilated as his stare intensified, sending a shiver through Salamon’s body.  
‘If you don’t want me to rip your ears off and force them down your throat, you will attend.’  
Defeated, she nodded her head. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being in Piedmon’s presence. Myotismon’s bad mood she could deal with, she knew how to avoid his temper or appease him when he wanted to make her fear him. Piedmon however, from what she knew, was something bigger than Myotismon, and the very thought made her stomach sink.  
‘Come,’ Myotismon ordered.  
She went to step forward but instead found Myotismon picking her up, hand half around her neck and half behind her front legs. It was uncomfortable, and she felt vulnerable. Against her will, her heart began to race, and her body shake, a cold sweat forming on her brow.  
‘Stop it,’ Myotismon growled as he marched down a corridor, footsteps reverberating against the stone walls.  
‘What?’ she asked quietly.  
‘Having a panic attack.’  
‘I’m not,’ she lied, swallowing thickly and trying to wriggle in his hand.  
‘Salamon.’  
Her breath hitched in her throat as he squeezed her tighter, fingers gripping around her windpipe. Maybe he wasn’t intending to suffocate her, but in his own internal rage, his regard for her wellbeing had been discarded.  
Something in her told her to stay quiet. At least if she passed out thanks to oxygen starvation, she wouldn’t have to see Piedmon. If she died, she’d never have to lay eyes on anyone here ever again.  
She scolded herself, taking as deep of a breath as she could in Myotismon’s grip. She could face this, after everything she had been through in her short life, this was one of the easiest. Still, even as she told herself this, her heart slammed against her ribs.  
Phantomon was waiting at the library doors but Myotismon ignored him. Salamon caught sight of the frown Phantomon cast over her as he noticed her in Myotismon’s hand.  
The spectre opened the doors, bowing as Myotismon entered.  
The smell of the library hit Salamon, almost making her gasp for breath. An overpowering floral stench suffocated her worse than Myotismon’s hands had done. The wrinkle of his nose under his mask let Salamon know Myotismon smelt it too.  
‘Piedmon isn’t a fan of the smell of old books,’ he stated.  
Placing Salamon on the ground, he went to the side table between the wingbacks, taking the stopper from the large crystal decanter and pouring a long drink into a matching glass.  
It chinked against his teeth as he placed it to his lips and Salamon watched with a concerned frown as he drank the glass in one.  
Catching her staring, he held the glass to her.  
‘Brandy?’ he asked sarcastically.  
Even picking up on his tone, she still shook her head, remembering her last feeble taste of alcohol.  
Myotismon let out a low chuckle and poured another smaller draught, sipping it this time as he looked around the top of the room.  
She watched him walk around, more relaxed now thanks to the drink setting in, and turned to her, staring intently.  
‘Up there,’ he told her, pointing to the top of one bookshelf. ‘Mind the cobwebs.’  
She grimaced at the thought.  
‘If you want me to be present, why can’t I be seen?’ she asked, daring to challenge his plan.  
He took a sip of brandy before answering.  
‘Like his drink, Piedmon is very particular about how he likes events to unfold.’  
Salamon cocked her head to the side, frowning.  
‘And he is very picky about our meetings being private.’  
Her eyes widened a little.  
‘But why?’  
‘I think he might suffer from… stage fright,’ he said, passing the glass from his right to his left hand and flourishing it above his head. ‘He can’t perform under pressure.’  
It was his turn to grimace at his own joke before he swigged down the last of his drink. The entendre went over Salamon’s head and she stared blankly, concerned by his quick drinking. She knew he drank wine - or blood, she’d never wanted to find out the difference - but to see him downing alcohol this much was out of character.  
‘You’re nervous,’ Salamon muttered, trying to stifle her own voice when she remembered who she was talking to.  
Myotismon let out an unamused snort.  
‘Because of what? I am the most powerful being on this continent. No one can challenge me. Not even Piedmon.’  
She was about as convinced by his words as he seemed to be.  
‘Get out of view. Now.’  
She followed his order, allowing him to pop her atop the bookcase. It was wide enough for her to comfortably perch, and she could hide in the shadows whilst still being able to view the wingbacks by the fireplace.  
Myotismon turned, placing his empty glass back onto the table and stopping the decanter again. Going to the fireplace, he turned his back fully to Salamon for a few moments before there was a knock at the door.  
‘Enter,’ Myotismon called.  
Salamon watched the door handle dip and Phantomon appeared.  
‘Sir, Lord Piedmon, as requested.’  
She craned her neck to see the infamous Piedmon, but he was stood too far back for her to see.  
She heard he and Myotismon exchange a greeting, Myotismon’s posture going rigid before he went back to the fireplace, back not quite turning fully to his companion.  
Piedmon stepped into the room, Phantomon closing the door behind him.  
Salamon frowned, cocking her head to the side again as she looked him over, careful not to get too close to the edge of the bookcase.  
He was tall, but in comparison to Myotismon, he was still a head shorter than the blond vampire. Piedmon’s chest was puffed out, and his waist cinched tight. Green and yellow embroidered trousers almost hung from his body, tucked into garish yellow boots, far too wide around his calves.  
He was something quite ridiculous, but the permanent smirk pinned on his lips below the black and white mask was unnerving.  
She cringed as Piedmon placed his hands on Myotismon’s shoulders, lifting to his tiptoes and kissing Myotismon against both cheeks one after the other, leaving a pair of dark red lip stain marks on him. The blond turned away and wiped his cheek inconspicuously with his shoulders, looking extremely vexed at Piedmon’s invasion of his personal space.  
Myotismon made a show of pouring out two glasses of brandy, passing one to Piedmon and taking a large sip of his own.  
‘Drinking already?’ Piedmon asked, turning his glass around in his long gloved fingers.  
Myotismon made a remark Salamon couldn’t hear, but the approving nod Piedmon gave made her guess it was something along his usual suave lines.  
Piedmon was the first to sit, Myotismon continuing to lean against the fireplace, running a finger around the rim of his glass where he set it down on the mantlepiece.  
‘You asked for an audience with me, Myotismon, and all you’re going to do is stand there like a piece of the furniture?’ Piedmon asked.  
‘Not in the mood for dancing around my intentions then?’ he retorted flatly.  
‘I do have other places I would much rather be tonight, frankly.’  
Myotismon snorted and finally sat in the empty wingback. It was only now Salamon noticed that the chairs had been moved further apart, indents on the rug showing where the feet of the chairs had once been. Myotismon really did have a big grievance with Piedmon, but that didn’t explain why she was here.  
‘As you are aware,’ Myotismon began. ‘We have a threat to our hold over this world practically breathing down our throats.’  
Piedmon gave a small nod in response, waiting for Myotismon to go on.  
‘You have encountered something like this before. You know what they are capable of…’  
‘They were easily defeated by myself and the other Dark Masters. I have every faith that when these new heroes of Homeostasis come, they will be quashed once again.’  
Myotismon finished his drink, pouring another and taking a sip before he continued.  
‘The legends say that Homeostasis gave four of them the power to become like gods, and that you were defeated.’  
‘Someone has been tampering with the script,’ Piedmon chided, finally taking a sip of his own drink.  
Salamon had seen the subordinates play this game. A drinking folly, where whenever someone was lying, they took a drink. The interaction between the two Digimon certainly looked like some version of that game. Intrigued, she dared to sneak a step forward, half out of the shadows.  
‘Besides, there are more acts added to our performance. Yourself, the likes of Etemon, and Devimon. All hurdles any new Chosen will have to overcome.’  
Myotismon’s face twisted into a snarl at the mention of the Champions.  
‘Something to say?’  
Myotismon took another drink.  
‘Do you really think fools like Etemon and Devimon will do anything to stop the Chosen? Etemon couldn’t even carry out the simple task of hiding the crests like you asked.’  
Piedmon’s eye twitched behind his mask.  
‘Then he will be punished accordingly.’  
‘I’ve already sorted it. But why ask incompetent fools like them to undertake such things when you know how useless they are?’  
‘You mean “why don’t I ask you?”’  
Myotismon faltered and before he could speak, Piedmon explained.  
‘Because despite our… many years of friendship, you are the one who would dare rebel against me and the Dark Masters if you so wished.’  
Finding nothing to do but sip his brandy, Myotismon kept silent.  
‘Of course, you know you would be unsuccessful, but you would still have the audacity to try,’ Piedmon continued.  
Myotismon’s posture changed again. He put his glass down and placed his hands in his lap.  
‘Lord Piedmon,’ he began. ‘You know my power comes from your grace.’  
‘It does,’ Piedmon agreed, a small smile pulling his lips.  
‘You know my army is strong, you know I have the most potential.’  
Salamon watched with a deep frown as Piedmon rose from his chair with a sigh. He went to the fireplace, mirroring where Myotismon had stood previously.  
‘You have proven yourself many times, dear Lord Myotismon.’  
Salamon crept further forward on the bookshelf, dangerously far from the shadows.  
Myotismon rose slowly, stepping towards Piedmon. The overdressed jester let out another sigh, suddenly turning on his heels and snapping his arm out, the back of his hand connecting with the side of Myotismon’s face, knocking his jaw to the side but otherwise not phasing him.  
Piedmon opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when Salamon, in her surprise of Piedmon’s strike, stumbled as she retreated. Her body gracelessly plummeted the height of the bookcase and crashed to the ground, mind greying out for a few moments.  
When it cleared, she found a red cheeked but irate Myotismon and unamused Piedmon staring over her.  
‘What do we have here hmm?’ Piedmon asked.  
Salamon dragged herself to her feet, head still spinning and her body beginning to shake in fear again. Myotismon’s glare was enough to turn her blood to ice and Piedmon’s presence made it worse by ten fold.  
She looked to Myotismon for direction, otherwise staying quiet, voice swallowed by fear.  
‘Do you not teach your pets manners now, Myotismon?’ Piedmon asked, wrapping a hand around Salamon.  
She stared at Myotismon as the jester carried her to the chairs, setting her down on the arm of one, sitting in the seat next to her. Glancing around, she saw Myotismon standing by the fireplace, stoney faced.  
Piedmon turned her chin back to face him, neck twisting and pinching a muscle awkwardly.  
‘What is she?’ he asked, lifting her chin and inspecting her Holy Ring.  
‘Salamon,’ Myotismon said finally when the champion didn’t reply.  
Shaking, Salamon couldn’t keep her eyes on Piedmon, but something told her not to look to Myotismon too much.  
‘Why were you spying, little thing?’ Piedmon asked.  
She shook her head, stuttering.  
‘I wasn’t!’  
Piedmon let out a laugh, sweet breath from the brandy spilling over her face and making her cringe away from his grip on her chin.  
It was Piedmon’s turn to look over at Myotismon and Salamon dared to follow his line of sight.  
The vampire’s lips were locked tight, set in a firm line. His eyes were fixed somewhere across the other side of the room.  
Piedmon gave a nod of his head and turned back to Salamon.  
‘Did big, mean Myotismon make you spy on our meeting?’  
She shook her head immediately, shaking off his grip.  
‘Are you sure?’  
‘Yessir,’ she squeaked, finding something of her voice again.  
With a sigh exactly the same as his previous, Piedmon stood and joined Myotismon by the fireplace.  
‘And here was me thinking your army was strong because they feared you, my dear Myotismon.’  
Myotismon raised his chin a little, drawing himself to his full height and readying himself to argue.  
‘Or does boredom mean you need something to chew on?’ Piedmon continued before Myotismon could get his words together.  
‘She has potential,’ Myotismon growled.  
She was sure he was defending his own decisions rather than her honour.  
‘Maybe, if she didn’t have this.’  
Piedmon jabbed at her Holy Ring, catching her off guard and making Salamon jump.  
‘That’s saved my life a few times,’ Salamon told him, not sure of she came across as brave or ignorant.  
Piedmon chuckled, eyes flicking back to Myotismon.  
‘If this is the state of your army, no wonder I leave important tasks to Etemon and Devimon.’  
Myotismon glared at Salamon and she gulped, knowing she’d already pushed her luck further than she should have.  
All of a sudden, she wanted to leave.  
‘I-I should let you two get on…’ she mumbled, trying to step down off the chair, making it as far as the seat before Piedmon grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.  
She hissed as he shook her, taking her to Myotismon and shoving her into his arms. He took her, eyes staying on Piedmon.  
‘I think we’re done here either way, Myotismon.’  
‘I haven’t even started Piedmon.’  
The clown chuckled again.  
‘No, you spoke, I pretended to be interested, then you started having a tantrum so I shut you up. Then your pet rudely interrupted. Apart from the last off script improv, it’s just like the rest of our lovely little performances.’  
Salamon glanced up at Myotismon, seeing his teeth clench tighter and tighter.  
‘Next time you chose to waste my time, make sure it’s for something of importance,’ Piedmon sneered.  
He made to turn for the door, turning back a second later.  
‘And get rid of that,’ he ordered, waving a hand in Salamon’s direction. ‘Or I’ll have my tailor turn it into a matching pair of fur cuffs for the winter.’  
Turning again, he strode to the door, knocking, awaiting Phantomon opening it before exiting.  
For a moment, there was silence as the door closed, the only sound being that of the wood in the fireplace crackling and burning.  
Salamon felt Myotismon’s hands below her relax and took the opportunity to jump out of his reach, tucking behind one of the wingbacks. She saw his chest rise and fall faster as his breath quickened and she waited for his outburst, surprised when it never came.  
Instead, he picked up the decanter and left with it, apparently forgetting about her and leaving her hiding in the library.  
The thought of following him quickly entered and just as quickly left her mind, deciding it would be best to stay out of his way and he had done her something of a kindness leaving her.  
Without Myotismon’s presence, the fire in the hearth quickly withered, the room lit only by the few uplights dotted around the walls. Salamon quickly began to feel the cold and knew she couldn’t stay here long for fear of freezing to death if she fell asleep.  
She wasn’t tired, oddly, despite the late hour. In fact, she was restless, and wondered if Phantomon might even be around somewhere for a spur of the moment training session. Wishing she had a blanket to keep her warm, she headed out of the library, finding her way outside, gulping down breaths of fresh air, chasing dust and grass as it floated through the air. It was something simple, and childish, but there was something in her that needed it, just for a few moments after all that had happened this week.  
The sound of shoes scuffing dirt pulled her out of her play fight with a particular leaf and she whipped her head round, expecting to see SkullMeramon or at worst, Myotismon.  
Instead, yellow boots paced towards her and Piedmon’s powdered face glared down.  
‘What are you?’ he asked her shortly.++  
‘I… I’m Salamon,’ she replied, deciding it unwise to entertain him whilst no one was here to protect her.  
Had he forgotten already?  
His head cocked to the side, a hair straying from the starched bundle atop his head.  
‘I know who, but what? I’ve seen a Salamon before, and your next evolution, if you happen to follow that line, but that choker…’  
‘My Holy Ring?’ she asked, paw instinctively reaching for the band. ‘What about it?’  
‘Why would Myotismon even entertain one with something like that? He hates Holy types. He knows what a… problem they can be for him.’  
‘P-problem?’ Salamon asked.  
Piedmon’s posture changed and she flinched, realising the behaviour as what Myotismon did before he usually swung for her.  
There was a wave in the air around Piedmon, and a pair of mounted swords appeared on his back, a heart and spade on the pommels. He drew one, lowering it to his side.  
Salamon gulped and stepped away, heart beginning to pound. She didn’t think her Holy Ring could save her from a mega level Digimon, no matter how many trick moves she made or how quickly she dodged.  
Raising the sword, Piedmon took up a stance, brandishing his blade more like a fencing sword than the thick steel it was.  
As he went to attack, Salamon couldn’t help but scream, eyes squeezing shut, heart stopping, breath catching in her throat.   
This was it.   
This is how it ended.   
After everything Myotismon had done, it would be Piedmon who killed her.  
The blade stopped short, doing no harm but maybe trimming a few ends of some ruffled fur atop her head.  
She didn’t dare open her eyes, or breath, waiting for Piedmon to change his mind and drive the blade down.  
‘Leave, Salamon, and don’t return,’ Piedmon told her, sheathing his sword.  
‘No! I can’t! I have nowhere to go,’ she protested, sobs dying in her throat.  
She knew if Myotismon ever found her if she escaped then he’d do worse than Piedmon ever could. She knew the consequences of leaving but she knew Piedmon wasn’t going to let her stay.  
Through her tears, she stared between the castle and the side gate in the distance, wishing someone would have heard her scream and come for her. All the troops would have been asleep or so far past drunk they couldn’t even tell whose feet were whose, and Myotismon was probably another three glasses into the brandy by now.  
‘Don’t make me repeat my line,’ Piedmon pressed, hand lifting for the sword again. ‘I’m letting you go alive, don’t make me regret it.’  
She nodded her head finally, swallowing hard, gagging on air.  
‘I’ll go,’ she muttered.  
Piedmon’s serious expression dropped, and a wild grin spread across his lips.  
‘Very good.’  
She felt him stare after her as she turned and padded towards the gate, thankful it was one of those that had previously been monned by the Gazimon and thanks to their reduced numbers, was still abandoned at night.  
Taking one look back at the castle, her head began to spin, all energy gone. Her first priority needed to be to find somewhere she could stay for the night, and wonder whether she should slip back in in the morning before anyone - namely, Myotismon - realised she was missing.


	13. Chapter 13

Dawn began to break sooner than she expected or than she wanted, sunlight creeping into the hollowed out tree she had tucked herself into for the night. Unable to sleep more, she stretched herself out, finding the hole smaller than she thought it had been the night before.  
Jumping down, she stretched, scratching an itch at the top of her ear.  
Something felt different, in the air or in the water, or in her, she couldn’t decide, but she pushed it to the back of her mind and hunted down water, her stomach still doing backflips from last night.  
She was lost, that was for sure, both physically and mentally. She couldn’t see the hilltop that the castle sat upon and she wasn’t sure what to do about returning and explaining to Myotismon what Piedmon had done, hoping it might save her from punishment for running away. Would Myotismon be out looking for her already? Or would he send Phantomon or SkullMeramon or another one of the generals to do the job for him? Prairiemon had never liked her much, he would enjoy hunting her and tearing her to shreds.  
She found a small stream and cupped her paws into the water, drinking before washing down her fur.  
As she rubbed her eyes, it was only then she saw her fur had bleached to white and her claws were longer.  
Jumping, figuring she had to be imagining things, she strained to see her reflection in the surface of the water, a distorted image staring back. She was about double her usual size, with white fur covering her and upright ears atop her head instead of folding at the sides of her head. Her Holy Ring had gone from around her neck and she looked around to find a smaller version laced around her long purple striped tail.  
She was still small in comparison to some champions, but she was finally a champion.  
She flexed her claws, learning how to withdraw and extend them, finding it easier to have them out especially at the front. With her longer legs and her tail acting as a balance, she could walk on her hind legs after some practice and decided this was a better way to go about.  
She spoke to herself aloud, voice deeper and louder but still feminine, not that she cared too much.  
For a little while, she explored, and pushed her body to its limits, running on two legs and all four, jumping, scratching, climbing up tree trunks by digging her claws into the bark. It was amazing, she was free, she could do whatever she liked. She could easily take on Phantomon in their training sessions now she was a champion. She just had to discover how to use and name her attacks.  
If she ever went back.  
The excitement of her evolution quickly wore off when she realised it was overshadowed by her current predicament.  
It did however mean she was aware of her stomach growling, ready for food all of a sudden.  
Setting on heading north in the hopes of finding a town, she was delighted to find walking didn’t take half as long whichever way she walked.  
There was something nagging in the back of her head, a name, a sound, something she had forgotten. Her name. Just like how Gazimon became Devidramon, her new evolution needed a name,  
She let sounds fall from her tongue as she walked, something clicking after ten minutes or so.  
‘Gatomon.’  
She repeated it over and over. It was bigger than Salamon, stronger, everything she had become. She liked it. She was Gatomon now. A champion Digimon. She didn’t need to be afraid anymore.  
She walked for a little while before coming across a village who were more than happy to share their food with her and talk with her, sharing stories, the elder Chuchidarumon opening his home to her as night began to fall.  
‘It’s not safe to be out when night falls around here anymore,’ he explained with a sigh, moustache trembling as he spoke.  
‘How comes?’ Gatomon asked before taking another bite of the chocolate he had given her.  
She had decided she would have to ask Babamon to make her some of the treats the Chuchidarumon had given her if she ever returned to the castle. Chocolate especially.  
Chuchidarumon sighed, shaking his head solemnly.  
‘Please tell me? I might be able to help?’ she pressed.  
‘There is a Digimon, called SaberLeomon. He used to be good, and he used to watch over our village from the mountain tops, but recently, something happened to him, and now, he attacks us and our village, taking our children and turning them into Digieggs.’  
Gatomon put the chocolate down, feeling guilty for stuffing her face when her hosts were in such strife.  
‘How can he?’ she asked.  
Chuchidarumon shook his head again.  
‘I don’t know. But a lot of Digimon have been changing these days. There’s something going on that we don’t understand, that’s bigger than any of us, and Digimon like SaberLeomon are the first to pay the price. Those with such valiant hearts.’  
‘I’ll stop him,’ Gatomon announced after a few moments of silence.  
Chuchidarumon didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing to discourage her.  
‘I might need some help from you and the villagers, but we’ll stop him.’  
‘Have you fought many battles?’ Chuchidarumon asked.  
Gatomon stuttered for a moment. Come to think of it, what had happened with Reppamon had been a complete fluke, and she’d never really fought someone who hadn’t been holding back on her.  
‘We are but champions, Gatomon, we can’t stand against a mega level Digimon like SaberLeomon.’  
‘Don’t think like that!’ Gatomon insisted, jumping to her feet. ‘We can do it!’  
She wasn’t sure where her fight had come from, or why she felt the need to help these Digimon when it wasn’t her fight. But she guessed it was out some form of gratitude for being so nice to her. If she could help them, she would.  
‘Where’s the safest place in the village?’ she asked.  
Chuchidarumon thought for a few moments before answering.  
‘The town hall. It’s old, but it’s sturdy.’  
‘Get everyone there. No one leaves until I say so, understand?’  
Chuchidarumon nodded his head.  
‘I’ll go wake everyone up then… Before SaberLeomon comes.’  
He did just that, leaving Gatomon to quickly think up a plan of attack. She still didn’t know how to summon her attacks, and she had no idea if she could stand up to a mega even being a champion now. But she would have to try.  
She took a quick gulp of water and headed out of the hut, glad to see everyone heading to the town hall on the elder’s instructions.  
She followed them, sitting with them in the hall.  
‘When does SaberLeomon usually attack?’ she asked.  
When no one heard her over the commotion of thirty villagers murmuring amongst themselves, she made a decision. The troops listened to Myotismon because he was loud and his voice was deep, so she decided to mimic it, taking a breath before repeating herself, tone deeper and louder this time.  
Hush fell over the hall and everyone stared at the stranger.  
‘Well?’ she asked, paws at her hips.  
‘About an hour after sundown,’ someone replied.  
‘So we have less than half an hour until he comes?’ she said to herself quietly. ‘Ok, where does he come from?’ she asked so they could hear.  
‘The hills to the west.’  
‘They’re not hills, they’re mountains!’ someone added.  
‘That doesn’t matter!’ Gatomon said quickly.  
She began to panic a little, looking round at the Chuchidarumon and their children. She couldn’t let them down, not now she had promised so much.  
‘I need help. Some of you need to act as bait to get SaberLeomon to the town square.’  
‘And risk our necks? I don’t think so!’  
‘He’s already slaughtered our children, he’s not getting us next.’  
Gatomon gritted her teeth.  
‘If you do nothing then he will continue to attack night after night, picking you all off until there’s no one left. If you fight, there is a small chance we could overpower him and defeat him,’ she snapped back at them, hushing any arguments.  
She paused for a moment.  
‘So what’ll it be? Hide in here like cowards, or come out and fight for your families?’  
‘I’ll fight,’ the elder volunteered first.  
‘And me.’  
‘I have no one left. At least if I die, I will get to join my family again.’  
‘I’ll go.’  
‘Anyone else?’ Gatomon asked, staring around with pleading eyes.  
She was met with silence.  
‘Fine, but you do not leave this hall until sunrise, no matter if you hear screaming or if you hear us getting torn apart. Understand?’  
‘Yes ma’am,’ the Chuchidarumon chorused.  
Gatomon stuttered for a moment.  
‘Sir, not ma’am,’ she told them finally. ‘Now, you lot, come with me.’  
They spilled out of the hall, going to the town square.  
‘I need you all to lead him back here. From here, I can trap SaberLeomon in a corner and give him my best shot.’  
‘How do we get him to follow us?’  
‘He wants to eat us, I don’t think there will be much issue with getting him to chase us if we run.’  
‘Exactly,’ Gatomon nodded. ‘Now go to the town wall and wait for him. If he gets too close to you, go upwards onto the rooftops.’  
‘Yessir!’ the Chuchidarumon chorused, spreading out into the town.  
Gatomon stood alone in the town square, a chill picking up and sending a shiver through her.  
She had to keep her wits about her, she knew that, but as a deathly silence set in over the town, she regretted this decision more and more.  
Weighing up her options of where to lead SaberLeomon once he was here, she made note of one particular pathway, devoid of any houses and safe for her to lead him down. The town hall was the opposite side of town so everyone would be safe. As far as plans went, it was the most logical she could see.  
Somewhere in the distance, there was a roar, and indistinct yelling.  
She readied herself, crouching to all four legs, knowing she could run faster that way. She felt her heart begin to thud in anticipation of the upcoming fight, knowing it would be to the death.  
Growling sounded through the streets and Gatomon saw the shadow of one of the Chuchidarumon atop one of the roofs a few streets down.  
It was up to her now.  
She bent her back legs, hackles raised and teeth bared, claws outstretched as long as she could draw them.  
SaberLeomon came into sight and the pair stared each other down for a moment before he lunged for her.  
She dodged lightning quick, jumping over him to get him to follow her down the lane.  
The plan worked, and SaberLeomon gave chase.  
Her head start came in handy as she tucked herself into a gap between the buildings, waiting for the beast to pass her a second later.  
Then, she pounced, landing on his back, doing everything she could to claw, bite, gouge at his neck and face, managing to leave a deep welt over one of his eyes.  
Roaring in pain, SaberLeomon reared, shaking her off and slamming her to the floor.  
‘I’m not giving up that easy,’ she hissed, getting to her feet.  
‘You have no chance of defeating me,’ SaberLeomon growled.  
‘Ha! I eat bigger things than you for breakfast.’  
Once again, she wasn’t sure where this cockiness had come from. But seeing the bleeding gash over his eye and the quick swelling made her smirk.  
‘Defeated by a champion, how does it feel?’ Gatomon asked.  
‘Not defeated yet, runt.’  
She still had no inkling of her attack and she needed them to defeat SaberLeomon. Her plan depended on the discovery but as SaberLeomon swiped her with a dinner plate sized paw, she had a horrible realisation that maybe she still couldn’t attack.  
She took a little longer to right herself this time, looking around for something she could use to mortally wound.  
A shard of wood caught her eye, thankful for her keen eyes even in the darkness.  
It was thick but broken in a point at one end. If she could get her hands on it, she could use it as a weapon.  
Dodging his next attack, and letting out a yell as he sent a Howling Crusher in her direction, missing her by a hair's breadth but causing a hole to be blown in the back of a nearby building.  
She dove for the shard, grabbing it in one paw, ignoring the sharp splinters along the length of it.  
Turning, SaberLeomon fired another Howling Crusher. Gatomon jumped again, towards him this time whilst he was distracted by his attack.  
She swung with the wood, slicing open his paw.  
SaberLeomon let out a roar of pain and tried to retaliate, Gatomon too quick for him with his wounds.  
‘Give it up,’ she growled at him.  
‘Never!’  
She swiped at him again, keeping him at a safe distance.  
‘Why do you keep attacking these people?’ she asked, not expecting a reply. ‘You were their protector.’  
‘Why do you care?’  
He snapped his jaws at the wood as she brandished it, remembering how she had seen that psychopathic jester flourishing his blade the night before. For now, her plan was to keep him back.  
‘You’re just a stranger, they’re nothing to you.’  
Gatomon narrowed her eyes.  
‘You’re evil. You need to be stopped before you kill anyone else.’  
‘Says the one trying to stake me.’  
He lunged at her, Gatomon holding the wood up in defence. There was no time to jump out the way, she realised, so she hoped she was still small enough to duck out of his grip.  
When he landed on top of her, his eyes stared down and it took her a few moments to realise why he didn’t attack further.  
Then she let out a disgusted yell as a drip of data and blood began to dribble from where the shard had embedded itself in SaberLeomon’s throat.  
Unlike Reppamon, she didn’t feel guilt over killing SaberLeomon. If anything, she was proud, knowing that tonight, the Chuchidarumon would be safe.  
Pushing SaberLeomon off of her, she got up, brushed herself off, and took a breath. Steadying her nerves before she walked back into the village.  
As she crossed the square, the doors of the town hall opened and the elder Chuchidarumon emerged.  
‘You killed him?’  
Gatomon nodded her head, keeping quiet otherwise.  
Chuchidarumon sighed, chin lowering.  
‘It’s a shame, after all he did for us. He saved us all more than once.’  
‘I’m… sorry,’ she told him, not sure if it was the right word and not even completely sure if she meant it.  
She felt no remorse. She’d meant to kill this time. It hadn’t been an accident.  
Entering the hall, the villagers stared at her with wonder.  
‘Stay here,’ one asked her. ‘And be our new protector.’  
Not having to even consider the offer, she shook her head.  
‘There is somewhere I must return to before anyone knows I’m missing,’ she replied.  
The Chuchidarumon looked disappointed.  
‘Then who will stop anyone like SaberLeomon the next time they come?’  
She thought for a few moments, chewing at the inside of her bottom lip.  
‘I could ask my master if he would consider sending a small cohort of troops down to become your defence squad.’  
‘Master?’ the Chuchidarumon elder questioned.  
‘Lord Myotismon.’  
His eyes grew wide for a moment and a rumble of lowered voices and whispering ran through the crowd.  
‘Is that a problem?’ Gatomon asked when she saw his reaction, glaring around the rest of the villagers.  
‘No, I just didn’t expect someone like you to associate with his kind.’  
‘I’m his secret weapon. No one expects me.’  
The elder let out a chuckle at this.  
‘Don’t lose that sense of humour kid,’ he told her. ‘But it would be greatly appreciated if you might have a word with your master. We would of course be indebted to him and we can pay for his soldiers’ services in food or something else Lord Myotismon would settle on.’  
Gatomon bowed her head.  
‘Of course. When I return to the castle tomorrow, I will discuss it with him.’  
‘Come, sleep in my home tonight,’ the elder offered.  
‘I appreciate your hospitality.’


	14. Chapter 14

Again, she awoke before dawn, rolling over on the battered but comfortable sofa Chuchidarumon had given her for the night. It made a wonderful change from hollowed out trees and blankets on floors. She made a mental note to demand her own room from Myotismon if she dared to be so forward when she got back.  
Stretching, tail swishing, she rolled onto her back, tucking her paws behind her head. It was something almost delightful to be able to do now her arms were long enough, and her legs could lay flat.  
Laying in silence, counting the hairline cracks in the ceiling, she waited until she heard Chuchidarumon move in the next room before getting up.  
‘Will you stay for breakfast?’ he asked.  
She shook her head, admittedly not having too much of an appetite this morning, probably due to nerves, she put it down to.  
‘I should be on my way,’ she told him. ‘Thank you for putting me up last night.’  
‘It’s no worries,’ he told her before quickly shuffling around the kitchen.  
A few moments later, he gave her a folded napkin.  
‘Take that for the journey at least,’ he insisted.  
‘Thank you, again.’  
As she headed out, the sun was beaming in the sky, a warm, dry air lingering. It would be hell in this heat navigating herself back to the castle, she knew that, but she knew she had to get back. There might even be a chance no one had noticed her absence yesterday but two days would be pushing it.  
Weaving her way through the back streets, she found herself at the town walls, stopping for a moment, thinking how easy it would be to stay here, live with the Chuchidarumon as their protector. It had felt almost right, comfortable even, to protect someone even if it resulted in the death of another. It made her heart ache, like something or someone was missing. It had been a long time since she last remembered feeling that ache, but she knew she was missing something in her existence.  
‘What could it be?’ she asked herself aloud, sighing as she turned away from the town once last time.  
‘Excuse me miss?’ a high pitched voice called from behind her.  
She turned back, finding a young Chuchidarumon running towards her, a backpack slung over his shoulder.  
‘My mama told me to give you this,’ he told her, out of breath as he handed over the backpack. ‘As a thank you for saving everyone last night.’  
She frowned as she accepted the gift, cocking her head at the child.  
‘What’s in it?’  
The Chuchidarumon shrugged his shoulders.  
‘All I know is, mama was up all night working on it.’  
‘Well, thank you,’ she said, bowing her head.  
‘Good luck on your journey,’ Chuchidarumon said with a wave.  
Gatomon nodded her head, opening the backpack only to put the food the elder Chuchidarumon had given her in the top before putting her arms into the straps.  
‘Good bye, stay safe.’  
She turned again, tucking her paws into the straps of the rucksack, drawing in a long breath and finally stepping over the town line.  
Looking out over the expanse of forest before her, the walk back to the castle seemed daunting, but it had to be done. Whether she was punished, killed, or praised for her new state, she had to return. She didn’t feel like she belonged anywhere else other than in the castle. She had things there she needed to do, points to prove, promises to keep, including kicking Phantomon’s butt now she was the same size as he.  
As she set off, a thousand scenarios played out in her head, resulting in her getting lost a lot, the morning slipping away quicker than she had anticipated.  
Stomach rumbling suddenly, she sat by a stream, dipping her paws in the water for a drink before she sat with her toes in the water and opened the rucksack, unfolding the napkin next to her on the riverbank.  
She was surprised to find, amongst the food, a folded piece of paper with strange lines on. Taking it and straightening it out, she realised it was a map, not that she knew how to read one.  
Slowly, she began to understand it, finding her position by the stream, still a good few hours from the hill that Myotismon’s castle sat atop. How had she travelled so far in one night as Salamon? She swore she must have moved whilst she’d been asleep.  
At least the route back was pretty straight forward.  
Folding the map back up, she delved deeper into the rucksack and found something fluffy at the bottom. With a frown, she pulled the item, or rather, items out.  
She recognised the colourings immediately. The orange and gold brindle stripes of SaberLeomon’s fur. It had been fashioned into gloves of some sort, his giant claws still attached.  
There was a feeling of unease, knowing how these had to have come about, not taking the Chuchidarumon as the sort to skin a fellow Digimon.  
She hesitated before slipping one over her paw. Even on the inside, they were soft, having been lined with leather or short haired hide. But still, even if killing SaberLeomon had been the right thing to do, she tucked the gloves back in her rucksack and tucked into some of the bread Chuchidarumon had given her, pushing the thought of the gloves to the back of her mind.  
The rest of the day passed with no event, surprisingly the road she took was devoid of any other life forms, but in a way, she was thankful for it.  
By nightfall, she had reached the base of the hill to the mountain. The way she approached was blanketed by a deep thicket, and she tore her legs several times on thorns almost as big as she.  
Of course Myotismon would have something like that protecting his castle.  
Having navigated the hill, she found a monned gate, a Dokugumon halting her in her tracks.  
‘Who goes there?’ the spider asked, crawling from the cover of the guard room.  
The small portcullis was lowered halfway, the spikes of the gate almost at Gatomon’s head height. How easy it would be for Dokugumon to cut the rope holding it up and crush Gatomon.  
‘I wish to see Lord Myotismon,’ she told Dokugumon, hoping her voice didn’t betray her nerves.  
‘He isn’t taking drop ins. Beat it puss.’  
‘He’ll want to see me.’  
Dokugumon’s bottom set of eyes narrowed.  
‘What makes you so special?’  
Smirking, deciding to push her luck, she thought of an answer.  
‘You mean you haven’t heard of the master’s lap kitty?’  
Dokugumon chortled at this.  
‘Yeh, but if I were that lap kitty, I’d turn tail and run the other way if she found out that Lord Myotismon had vowed to rip her ears off if she was ever stupid enough to return.’  
Gatomon bit her lip, glancing around, cockiness turning to doubt. Dokugumon’s chelicerae pulled back into something of a smirk.  
‘But by all means, go find him, pretty kitty.’  
She’d come this far, she couldn’t turn back now. Taking in a breath, she nodded her head to Dokugumon and entered, ducking her head under the gate instinctively even though as she got closer, she realised it was at least a foot higher than her head height.  
Finding herself at the back of the castle, knowing the kitchens were ahead of her, she slipped in through a side door, keeping to the back passages as she wove her way up and through the castle.  
Finding his study empty, as well as the library, her next thought went to the self claimed throne room.  
There were the usual Gazimon at the doors, who, after a glance between themselves, let her in.  
Myotismon was sat in his throne, ankle propped up on the opposite knee. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair and his chin rested on his fingers.  
Hesitantly, Gatomon approached, stopping halfway down the room to bow.  
‘My Lord, it’s me, Sala-’  
‘I know who you are. I could smell you a mile off,’ he interrupted in a hiss.  
She squeezed her eyes shut, keeping her head lowered.  
‘Do you not remember what I said to you, when I showed you the kindness of saving your useless life all those moons ago?’  
‘Yes my Lord.’  
‘Did I give you permission to speak?’ he roared.  
She was shaking now, a cold sweat running down her forehead and the back of her neck.  
‘Unless I give permission, you do not leave the castle grounds. One absolute rule. After I gave you the run of the castle, after I bestowed my trust in you to make the right decisions without my constant guidance and reprimanding.’  
She stayed silent, doing her best to still herself. This had been a stupid decision. Of all the idiotic things she had done, coming back was the worst.  
‘If it were anyone else, you would have had a pack of Devidramon at your heels the moment your feet crossed the outer walls.’  
‘So why am I any different?’  
The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Daring to glance up at him, she found Myotismon at his feet.  
‘You want to be treated like the rest of those fools out there?’ he asked, almost dumbfounded at her words.  
‘I don’t want to be your pet. I don’t want to sit in your office all day. I don’t want to be useless and scared and I don’t want everyone thinking I’m unable to defend myself.’  
A thought crossed her mind and she took her backpack from her shoulders, pulling the gloves from the bottom and tossing them at Myotismon’s feet.  
‘I did that,’ she told him. ‘I took on a Digimon five times my size and two levels above me and I made clothing out of him.’  
Myotismon’s eyes flickered down to the gloves but his expression remained stony and unimpressed.  
‘I want to be an officer, you promised when I digivolved-’  
‘I said there was a possibility.’  
She stumbled, thinking back and realising he was right.  
‘And look at you. Still so small, and what of your attacks?’  
She swallowed.  
‘I can defend myself,’ she said through clenched teeth.  
Myotismon let out a snort.  
‘Fantastic, exactly what I need in a soldier, even better for an officer.’  
His sarcasm made her cringe. Why did she even think there was any point in talking to him?  
‘Give me a chance to prove myself,’ she asked finally.  
‘You have had several chances. Each time you’ve screwed up and proved yourself unworthy and a disappointment. This week you have been the epitome of disloyal.’  
‘You sent me on a recruitment mission and I enlisted double what SkullMeramon usually drags back. I destroyed someone who openly opposed you. I’ve consistently proved myself in training with Phantomon. And I even survived a round with Piedmon!’  
‘Piedmon?’ Myotismon spat, glowering.  
She bit her lip, shrinking back.  
‘He was the one who told me to leave. He said he’d kill me himself if he ever saw me again.’  
Myotismon took in a long breath, chin jutting out as he exhaled.  
‘You have far to go before I will even consider making you an officer. You have one more chance to impress me. Mess it up, and you won’t have the opportunity to let me down again, understand?’  
She bowed deeper, hiding a gleeful smile.  
‘Thank you my Lord.’  
‘Go find Phantomon, he will find you a suitable room.’  
‘Yes my Lord.’  
She straightened and turned.  
‘No more leniency, Gatomon.’  
Her eyes widened momentarily as she snapped back round to face him.  
‘How did you?’  
As far as she remembered, she hadn’t told him her new name yet.  
‘I know a lot more about your kind than you will ever understand.’  
She swallowed, nodding.  
‘Of course Master.’  
Again, she turned away and exited the room, throwing the Gazimon a cocky smile as she left.  
As the doors closed behind her, she heard a curse on Piedmon’s name and then something shattering. Shaking her head, she set on.  
Walking the opposite way to where she’d come from, she headed for the mess hall, guessing Phantomon would still be in there after today's training.  
She found the spectre sat at one of the head tables, paying her no attention as she sat down.  
‘Lord Myotismon sent me.’  
‘Of course he did,’ he sighed. ‘What does he want me to do? Hang you by your dew claws above a cauldron of burning oil?’  
‘Huh? No... You recognise me?’  
‘The air about you is still the same and probably always will be.’  
‘I smell?’  
His shadowed eyes rolled and he shook his head.  
‘I am glad I don’t have to burn you alive. The smell of burning flesh always makes me want Oinkmon and Babamon never orders any.’  
‘Even for you that’s dark.’  
‘So, what is it?’ Phantomon asked, pushing his bowl away.  
‘Myotismon ordered for you to find me a room.’  
‘About time,’ he muttered.  
‘What?’ she growled.  
‘Nothing,’ the spook chuckled as he reached for his scythe which had been jammed between a crack in the stone work until now. ‘There were rumours… if you catch my drift.’  
‘Shut up. And if I hear anyone else saying that crap I’ll rip their ears off.’  
Phantomon chuckled again.  
‘Well, someone’s evolution came with an extra side of balls.’  
She gritted her teeth.  
‘Just follow your orders.’  
Phantomon sighed, nodding.  
‘Yes ma’am.’  
‘Why “ma’am”?’  
‘Well, you’re a womon aren’t you? Or was my previous statement more true than I thought?’  
‘I’m not anything. But “sir”, not “ma’am”.’  
‘Are you even an officer?’ Phantomon asked, twirling his scythe between his hidden fingers.  
Gatomon stayed quiet at that one, making Phantomon chuckle again.  
‘Well then, let's find you a room.’  
She followed him through the castle, watching him deliberate over doors, tapping the back of his scythe blade on one finally, the door creaking open.  
‘Home sweet home,’ Phantomon told her.  
She looked in the room, grimacing. It was small, cold, with a battered set of shelves to one side, a small desk and chair opposite, and across from the door was a full sized bed, with a straw stuffed mattress.  
‘There’s a wood shed by the stables for the fireplace. Enjoy.’  
‘Fireplace?’  
She stepped into the room, finding an alcove with an ashy grate between the bookshelf and the bed.  
‘How do-?’ she asked, turning to find Phantomon had already scarpered.  
Shutting the door, thankful she now no longer had to stand on tiptoes to reach the latch, she looked up and around the room. It was colder than Myotismon’s study, and had the same dusty smell as the library. She didn’t even have her familiar blanket anymore for the sake of comfort.  
There was a barred window a few meters above, but the glass was grey and she figured that even in the daytime it wouldn’t let much light in.  
Sitting on the bed, she found the mattress more comfortable than she expected. It might have been just because she was exhausted, she realised as she lay down, nuzzling her nose into the pillow, sighing as her tail wrapped around her.  
Shivering, she did her best to ignore the cold, and soon found herself drifting into sleep, finding herself dreaming of running, calling out, desperately searching high and low for something she was missing. A shadow chased her as she searched, singing her name but still she kept searching.  
She awoke several times that night in a cold sweat, tucking her tail tighter around her every time.  
After the third time, she was almost tempted to go and demand her blanket from Myotismon, but the fact she didn’t want him knowing she already resented her request for her own room kept her glued to her mattress.   
There was only a few hours until sunrise, a few hours until she could go out and do… what was she going to do? She wasn’t an officer. Myotismon hadn’t made it clear what her role here was now. Was she a soldier? Would she train dawn until dusk with the others? She guessed she would have to swallow her pride and ask Myotismon later. Or now.  
She was too restless to go back to sleep now, that was for sure.  
Sighing, making up her mind, she climbed off the bed and headed out her room, making a mental note of every turn she took so she knew her way back.  
It took her a little while, but finally she found Myotismon’s study, standing at the door, every instinct telling her to turn and go back to her room.  
Before she could make the decision to knock or run, the door opened, a disheveled D’Arcmon stepping out and half tripping over Gatomon.  
‘Hey!’ they complained in unison.  
Her neck and head scarf were both tucked in the crook of her arm and her bare neck had a crescent shaped red trench on it, two darker imprints about an inch and a half apart. A trickle of dried blood pooled in her collar bone and Gatomon immediately guessed what had occured.  
‘I said you can leave,’ Myotismon’s voice ordered from inside.  
D’Arcmon glared back into the room.  
‘I would but your rat catcher is in the way.’  
‘What?’  
Gatomon heard the chair creak as Myotismon rose, coming to the door.  
D’Arcmon leant herself against the doorframe and smirked as Myotismon glowered down at Gatomon.  
‘You, leave,’ he told D’Arcmon. ‘And you, you had your own room for a reason. Get out of my space.’  
‘I needed to ask you something,’ Gatomon told him.  
D’Arcmon let out a giggle as Myotismon’s glare deepened.  
Quickly, the look turned to the taller womon and Gatomon cringed as Myotismon grabbed her wrist, turning her round and shoved her hard enough to send her stumbling halfway down the corridor.  
‘I’m not in the mood for anymore of your demands,’ Myotismon growled at the feline.  
‘Not a demand I promise,’ she said quickly, changing her approach for fear of ending up like D’Arcmon.  
‘Then what?’ Myotismon sighed, stoney expression breaking and shoulders slouching.  
‘I… My blanket,’ she said.  
‘Your-?’  
He tutted, turning back into the study, returning a few seconds later with the balled up rag.  
‘Thank you.’  
He tossed it down at her with almost enough force to knock her over, huffing and dismissing her as he did.  
Deciding it would be unwise to ask anything else, Gatomon bowed and left, thankfully remembering her way back and tucking herself back into bed under the warmth of the blanket.  
The familiar smell apparently did wonders for soothing her nightmares and she was able to get a restful sleep until sunrise.


	15. Chapter 15

‘No way!’  
‘I’m not here to argue with you, merely pass on Lord Myotismon’s orders.’  
‘I am not clearing out the Devidramon stables!’  
‘Well, fine, don’t do it, good luck suffering the consequences.’  
Phantomon turned away from Gatomon where she sat finishing breakfast, jabbing the back of a yelling Numemon with the blunt end of his scythe as he went.  
Gatomon glared after him, deliberating between throwing something at him or storming off. Both were probably bad ideas.  
She had thought her days would be spent out with the other recruits training, not doing manual labour which had no reward whatsoever. Running around, fighting, taking orders from the likes of Phantomon was manageable, but this was demoralising.  
Heading out of the mess hall, she headed across the castle grounds, past the barracks, and stood to glare at the stables, sighing finally in defeat.  
Before she could take another step forward, SkullMeramon stepped out of the doorway, staring blankly at her before bursting into laugher.  
‘Shit, I get lumbered with you today?’ he asked, still laughing.  
She glared at him, baring her teeth in disgust.  
‘That’s a real growth spurt you had there.’  
‘Shut up,’ she growled, admittedly not sure if he was being intentionally rude or jesting with her.  
‘Well, best get to work then small fry.’  
‘Don’t call me that. I could kick your arse any day.’  
SkullMeramon almost doubled over in laughter this time.  
‘You can’t even reach my arse, champion.’  
Muttering something under her breath, she followed him back into the barn, thankful it wasn’t in as bad a condition as she had remembered him describing it on their walk out for the recruitment mission.  
The few Devidramon were tethered into stalls and SkullMeramon had already moved a few to allow access to their mess.  
Giving the pint size feline a smaller pitchfork, they set to work clearing out, Gatomon hissing back at one Devidramon who took a disliking to her.  
‘Stupid lizard,’ she growled at it, earning another hiss.  
‘They’ve got more sense than you,’ SkullMeramon told her.  
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she snapped back.  
‘Any of us would give our right arm to get the hell outta here. You were safe out there and you came back.’  
‘How does everyone know?’  
‘You ain’t heard?’  
Gatomon shook her head.  
SkullMeramon let out a whistle, steepling his hands atop the handle of his fork.  
‘Myotismon about tore half the castle apart when he realised you were gone. I don’t know why he was so pissed over a runt like you but still, three Numemon and Prairiemon were dispatched because a’ you bunking out.’  
She blinked, an ear twitching at his words. Why did Myotismon care so much to throw such a fit? And yet he acted like that when she returned? What was his problem?  
‘I guess he’s just possessive of his favourite play thing-’  
Before he could continue, she’d jumped at him and slammed her fist into the side of his face, shoving the unsuspecting ultimate into a stable door beside him.  
SkullMeramon was taken aback as his head snapped round, surprised she could have such force.  
‘Whoa,’ he said, rubbing the side of his face.  
When realisation that she’d punched steel dawned, the pain in her paw set in and she grit her teeth not to cry out.  
‘I’m not his goddamn pet or his plaything,’ the champion spat, pain making her blood boil again.  
‘Alright, alright, jeez,’ SkullMeramon mumbled, turning his back on her and getting back to work.  
With his back turned, Gatomon took the time to check on her paw, finding her knuckles bruised beneath her fur, but no signs of any breaks. She wouldn’t be doing that again in a hurry though.  
‘Ouch!’  
SkullMeramon snapped back round, finding Gatomon suddenly sprawled on the floor, a welt of blood and data pooling on her arm.  
‘Stupid thing bit me!’ she shouted, glaring at the Devidramon who’d hissed at her earlier.  
Picking her up by the scruff of her neck, SkullMeramon dumped her on a table in a store room by the door.  
‘Keep still,’ he growled, pulling her arm to him and looking over the bite.  
‘That hurts,’ she hissed.  
‘It will do. Now shut up and get yourself to the medic.’  
Her attitude suddenly changed and she wrenched her arm back, SkullMeramon letting go.  
‘It’s only a scratch,’ she mumbled, tucking her wounded arm around her, wincing when the blood stuck to the fur on her belly.  
‘Devidramon bites will get infected. Last year we had a Gazimon turn to stone after he got bitten.’  
‘So he became a Gotsumon?’  
Her attempt at distracting him failed and they glared at each other for a few moments.  
‘Get, or I will stick you in a crate and carry you up there.’  
‘Fine.’  
That would be too embarrassing.  
Gatomon made for the door, stopping and turning back, opening her mouth to speak, closing it again when SkullMeramon beat her to it.  
‘By the kitchens.’  
Turning back, she headed for the castle, finding the kitchen easily, and the med room tucked at the end of a corridor.  
She knocked, waiting until she was called, the wound stinging every time she breathed in.  
When no answer came, she decided to push the door open, finding a room smaller than she expected with a cupboard and desk against one wall and a rough looking wooden bench against another, which currently had a snoring Nohemon atop it.  
The crow on his left shoulder awoke first, pecking at the scarecrow after eyeing Gatomon suspiciously.  
She took a step back, wincing in pain as the Digimon rose from the bench.  
Her paw went to her arm, covering the wound as the scarecrow approached.  
‘What do we have here?’ Nohemon asked, reaching down for her.  
The crow ruffled it’s feathers as his master spoke.  
‘I… got bitten,’ she replied slowly. ‘By a Devidramon.’  
Nohemon took her paw and turned it, her arm rotating with it. Looking over the injury, the crow on his shoulder hopped down Nohemon’s arm, cawing quietly.  
Nohemon nodded apparently in response to the crow’s sounds.  
‘You’re lucky,’ Nohemon mumbled. ‘It isn’t injected with venom, but it is pretty deep.’  
He went to the desk and ducked under it, opening a cupboard and bringing out a roll of bandages.  
‘I’ll sign you off for a couple of days whilst you recover.’  
‘That’s not necessary!’ the smaller champion half yelled, thinking of the punishment Myotismon would give her if she skipped whatever degrading task he doled out next.  
The crow flapped its wings at her volume, Nohemon’s eyes narrowing suspiciously.  
‘If you don’t rest, it will get infected and spread,’ he told her.  
‘If I don’t work, Myotismon will kill me.’  
‘It’ll be fine if I sign you off. Just give it to your officer,’ he explained.  
‘I… Don't have one,’ she admitted.  
Would Phantomon count? SkullMeramon? She wasn’t in the mood to find out the hard way if she was wrong. She was hiding it from Nohemon, but her arm was burning up and hurting a lot.  
‘Whoever asks why you’re not training then,’ Nohemon said with a roll of his eyes, the crow apparently shaking its head too.  
Gatomon sighed, feeling like every conversation she had with anyone in the castle was an argument. Maybe a day off to feel sorry for herself wasn’t the worst idea in the world.  
‘Now, bandages,’ Nohemon told her.  
She nodded, holding out her arm, hissing as she moved it.   
As Nohemon began to wind bandages around the wound, she had to bite her lip hard to stop herself from cursing loudly. By the time he had finished and knotted the bandage off, she had two pricks in her bottom lip where her eye teeth sat above.  
‘There,’ Nohemon said, his face frowning when he saw her expression. ‘Now go get yourself some food from the kitchen and get some rest.’  
She nodded, already deciding to skip food, wanting nothing more than to be somewhere quiet, by herself.  
She tucked her arm against herself, flinching again before thanking Nohemon and leaving.  
Turning too fast, struggling to keep her balance as she walked out of the room, only remembering the way away from the kitchen from memory since her eyes were becoming like kaleidoscopes, the walls and corridors around her turning and swirling together in one big grey mess.  
Her door was open, and she crawled through, head giving one last spin before she dropped to the floor and passed out.  
It wasn’t a restful sleep, as she dreamt of running, crying, screaming, pain. Every fear she had manifesting itself into a physical form. She slashed and snarled at the figure, bits breaking off, only to reassemble itself a moment later.  
She knew the form. From the leather boots to the metal mask.   
Myotismon.  
In her dream, as he cackled down at her, she was unashamed to cry, to beg for his mercy as he kicked her away. Her entire body was on fire as he sent his crimson lightning after her.  
She lay bleeding out, gasping for breath, fighting for her life, and just as she felt like she couldn’t cling on any longer, the floor dropped from beneath her and her eyes snapped open.  
She was back in her room, alone, laying in a puddle of her own sweat in the middle of the floor. The bite still burned and her head felt like it had been hit hard.  
Straining her eyes, she tried to see her wound through the bandages but all that was visible was a red stain.  
Pulling herself to her feet, taking slow, shallow breaths, Gatomon blindly stumbled out of her room and through the castle, tripping and falling several times and finding herself taking the quick way down a staircase.  
Once at the bottom, she struggled getting back to her feet, only making it to all fours before white spots began dancing over her eyes, growing bigger and brighter, and bringing with them a splitting headache.  
She let out a pathetic mewl, letting her legs give out from under her. Dropping to the floor, nose squashing against the flagstone, the blackness overtook.  
Not staying black for long however, when a splattered palette of blues, reds, yellows, white, black and green danced in front of her.  
She knew she was dreaming, or rather hallucinating. In the dream, she was well, if not a little ungrounded, feeling like she was floating rather than walking.   
Gatomon made her way aimlessly through the wonderland, colours swirling and dancing around. The reds were hot and warm, shrouding her shoulders in a comforting embrace. The blues were cold, making her ears prickle as they gushed past.  
A splash of black and a splash of white lurched together, taking the form of something close to a Gazimon. Except it’s head was too large for it’s body and it’s arms were a foot longer than they should have been.  
Gatomon stared as it bobbed around, snarling, smirking, seemingly talking backwards. She recognised one phrase though.  
‘Murderer.’  
It repeated the word over and over and no matter how much Gatomon argued back, her words fell silent the moment they were out of her lips.  
It made sense. No matter how much she argued with those in her life, she was never heard, never listened to or given what she asked for. She had to struggle so hard just to survive, as Salamon and now more so as Gatomon. Fighting was the only way to live. She knew it was a miserable existence, and it hurt to think about it and hurt more to be confronted by it.  
In her fevered dream, it was inescapable. There was no safe place as the colours formed into more misshapen figures from her past and present.  
Gatomon guessed she really had been poisoned by the bite and these dreams were a side effect, at least her mind was clear enough to put that together. But still, it didn’t tell her how to get them to stop. Nohemon hadn’t said what needed to be done if she had been poisoned but from what she knew, they usually required antidotes.  
Still unconscious, even though her dreams were lucid, she had no idea how to get all the way back downstairs.  
A groan escaped her, sounding in her ears, the first noise she had been able to make in her dream.  
Making another noise, turning her head, finding the vivid colours had faded and all that was around her was the dark corridor of the castle. Behind her, the stairs she had fallen down and in front, a long, empty corridor. The idea of struggling down it wasn’t appealing but slowly, she crawled, her arm hurting with every movement.


	16. Chapter 16

‘Where am I? What happened?’  
The words left her lips before her eyes opened. Her back was against something soft, her body ached but not half as much as she remembered. Somewhere in the room, she could hear movement.  
‘So kind of you to finally join the land of the mostly living again.’  
Phantomon. Again, it took her a little while to place the voice but opening her eyes a crack confirmed it.  
‘You were out awhile,’ he told her, floating towards her.  
She was in her bed, in her room, a thicker blanket over her thankfully.  
‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘I was poisoned by a Devidramon!’ she said a split second later, answering her own question.  
‘Pretty badly. It took a double dose of the antidote to revive you.’  
‘Nohemon didn’t give it me did he?’  
Phantomon shook his head, eyes glinting beneath his hood.  
‘Oh no, Nohemon has been shown how vicious Devidramon can be. They have some new straw bedding now at least.’  
‘What?’ Gatomon asked, frowning.  
Phantomon shook his head, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her.  
‘What’s with you being all nicey nice?’ Gatomon asked suspiciously.  
‘Would you prefer I be like Lord Myotismon and punish you for your absence the past two days?’  
‘Two days?’ she half yelled.  
‘Your body was deeply infected by the poison.’  
‘You’re telling me.’  
She emptied the glass of water, Phantomon taking the empty glass.  
‘The Master has asked to see you once you are well enough. My advice, drag it out as long as you can. I won’t tell him you’re awake.’  
‘Thanks,’ she said with a nod. ‘I’ve had enough of being in bed though.’  
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’  
With that, the spectre left.  
Until now, the bite hadn’t irritated her, but curiosity got the better and she had to see what it looked like under the bandages. Removing them carefully, she was intrigued to find no blood, and a neat line where the skin had been torn, only slightly puckered and not nearly as red and inflamed as it had looked two days ago with a surprisingly small amount of fur loss.  
Unwrapping the last of the bandage and tossing it on the bed, she stretched, sliding off the bed once she was done.  
Her joints were still stiff, locked in place from being unconscious and static for too long. Ignoring the popping in her shoulder on her wounded side, she made her way to Myotismon’s office. Thankfully, it was the middle of the day, and everyone was out training or at their posts so the journey was uninterrupted and short.  
She knocked, awaiting permission to enter. In the moment of silence, she took in a breath, readying herself for whatever foul mood Myotismon was in today.  
‘Come.’  
She reached for the latch, pushing the door open, stepping into the room and quickly closing the door behind her.  
She almost choked at the smell in the room. The overpowering scent of blood hit her full force and she had to use all of her restraint not to wretch.  
Smirking from behind his desk at her discomfort, Myotismon coaxed her forward with a finger.  
There were dark patches on the upturns of his coat sleeves, and his lips were a little brighter shade of purple, tinted with more red than usual.  
She caught herself staring for too long before dipping into a deep bow, spine creaking as she did.  
‘Master,’ she said out of courtesy. ‘You summoned me.’  
‘I did,’ Myotismon said flatly.  
He rose from his chair and stepped round the front of his desk. The clips at his shoulders were off centre, and one of the bat heads was twisted to the side.  
For Myotismon, he looked a mess. But the smell of death that lingered about him somehow made him more imposing than ever. Despite Gatomon gaining a few inches in height since her evolution, she swore Myotismon still towered over her as much as ever.  
‘You have three days of duties to catch up on,’ he told her, arms folded across his chest.  
Immediately, Gatomon snapped up from her bow. She faltered, searching for words.  
‘Lord Myotismon, I was sick,’ she protested.  
She still was. She could feel the dizziness in her head. She couldn’t face another day mucking out stables, not with the Devidramon growling in her ears and the smell clinging to her.  
‘I am aware. Phantomon kept me updated.’  
Gatomon nodded her head.  
‘But that is no excuse. A night or two of guard duty will suffice this time to make up what you lost.”  
That wasn’t so bad. She could sleep through the day that way at least.  
‘But tomorrow, SkullMeramon expects you at the stables again and Phantomon has agreed to continue your training session as before.’  
She let out an audible groan, earning a glare from Myotismon.  
She bowed again, bracing herself for a kick or being grabbed by the scruff of her neck.  
‘Is there a problem with my benevolence, Gatomon? Any other recruit would be taken to the dungeons and whipped for their absence. Perhaps you would prefer that instead of manual labour?’  
‘No master,’ she said quickly.  
She could feel his glare on her, burning holes into the back of her head.  
‘For your insolence, you can start guard duty tonight. Main east gate. 8pm sharp. If I find out you were late, there will be a heavy price to pay.’  
Fantastic. She kept her face straight even with it downturned.  
‘Yes my Lord. I won’t be late.’  
‘Good, now out of my sight. And if you see Phantomon, tell him to send someone to clean my rooms.’  
‘Yes my Lord,’ she repeated, turning and leaving, still half bowed over.  
She made it three steps down the hallway before punching the nearest wall, hissing loudly when stone punctured through her knuckles. As the pain crept up her arm, she let out a cry as her bite flared up. Leaning her forehead against the brickwork, clenching her bloody fist and wrapping her other hand around her wound, she caught a whiff of the metallic smell, coming from her this time, but it made her want to wretch all the same.  
“Any other recruit” Myotismon had said. Wasn’t she that now? Like she’d wanted? Like she’d asked for? But still, Myotismon didn’t have to be so… him about giving her what she wanted.  
She brought her head back, banging it against the wall with a dull thud. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do with herself until later. She could go eat, but the idea of joining everyone in the mess hall was intimidating to say the least, and she had still not talked to Babamon in all this time. She could go to her room and risk falling asleep and missing the start of her shift but that would no doubt bring on Myotismon’s wrath after he had stayed his hand just now.  
She jumped and turned to face back down the hallway as the door she had come from opened, Myotismon stepping out. Beneath his mask, his nose was wrinkled and his lips were pursed below.  
‘What are you still doing here?’ he asked as he looked to Gatomon. ‘And why are you bleeding all over my corridor?’  
She stuttered, hiding her paws behind her back quickly.  
‘I was just… thinking of what to do with myself,’ she admitted, not having the mental stamina to lie to him right now. ‘Before as Salamon, I would stay in your office all day. Now…’ she trailed off.  
Myotismon half rolled his eyes.  
‘You try my patience Champion,’ he muttered. ‘You were attempting to learn to read before you fell ill, were you not?’  
She nodded, quickly affirming in words after.  
‘Then come to the library with me and practice more. You can work until your duties tonight.’  
She hesitated, a shiver running through her that she had to try her best to suppress a reaction to.  
‘I-is that an order?’ she asked.  
Myotismon folded his arms over his chest, a small sigh sounding from his lips.  
‘If you have something better to do, then no. But if you’re just going to make the place look untidy, then yes, it is an order.’  
She had a feeling the first half of that statement wasn’t entirely true, but either way, she accepted it.  
Following him to the library, lingering by the door as Myotismon entered and the flames in the fireplace burst into life, she watched Myotismon as he searched around on one of the nearest shelves. Stilling eventually, he turned, a wooden box in his hands.  
‘Sit,’ he ordered, head nodding towards the wingbacks by the fire.  
She obeyed without question and watched again as Myotismon joined her, lifting her onto his lap and placing the box atop the arm of the chair.  
‘Are you slowly trying to harm every part of your body?’ he asked as he opened the box.  
‘It was an accident,’ she said too quickly.  
‘Yes, the wall has a history of attacking Digimon unprovoked.’  
He took a bandage from the box, tearing some off to mop the now mostly dry blood from Gatomon’s paw. He wasn’t gentle, and she hissed as he pressed between her toes to draw out some of the blood.  
When the blood had mostly gone, he wrapped another strip of bandage around the wound.  
She wanted to ask why, but stopped when he placed the side of his thumb to his mouth and swallowed the droplet of her blood that had gotten onto his glove.  
‘Go find something to read,’ he told her, getting up and putting the box back.  
She jumped down from his lap, landing on all four feet instinctively as she did when she was Salamon, the floor being closer than she remembered it.  
Doing as she was told, she perused the numerous shelves of books, taking her time, hearing Myotismon moving behind her and not wanting to return to his side any time soon.  
Finally, she found something that took her interest, if she was judging a book by its cover. She half carried, half dragged the book back to the fire, sitting herself down on the rug away from Myotismon.  
‘You’ll burn yourself sat that close to the fire.’  
Why did he care?  
‘And ruin the leather on the book too.’  
Of course. Materialism.   
Shuffling away slightly, she could sense Myotismon’s smirk behind her. Ignoring him, frowning down at the book, slowly beginning to read, she immersed herself in what she now realised was a book on the history of the Digital World. She would have preferred something a little lighter given her current mood, but didn’t have the stamina to go and change the book, nor explain herself to Myotismon.  
She found a rhythm to her reading, her lack of practice over the past few weeks not affecting her abilities too much. It was easier to read the words and move her lips, hearing them form in her head.  
‘You’re mumbling,’ Myotismon alerted her after five pages. ‘And you pronounced the last word wrong.’  
She frowned, sure she hadn’t been making a noise.  
‘Apologies,’ she said, going back to the last sentence.  
Reading the line aloud, she glanced to Myotismon.  
‘Wrong. Again.’  
‘Then how?’ she asked, brow furrowing.  
‘Don’t pout at me. Maybe if you hadn’t decided to skip out on your teachings, you would know how to pronounce a word like “humanoid”.’  
‘What even is humanoid anyway?’ she snapped.  
Myotismon snapped the book he had in his lap shut, glaring down at her. In the firelight, his eyes, even slightly shadowed by his mask had a dangerous flicker to them.  
Her ears flattened to her head and she couldn’t hold her stare to him any longer. She would be punished for it, she was sure.  
‘Humanoid is like me,’ Myotismon replied slowly.  
‘What’s the difference?’  
‘Check a dictionary.’  
‘What’s a dictionary?’  
He didn’t have a reply to this. Pursing his lips and glaring at her, he got up, dropping his book into his seat and stalking over to one of the shelves behind. Returning with a large stack of loosely bound papers in his hands, he shoved it towards Gatomon.  
‘Look. It. Up.’  
She took the papers, flicking through them, finding lists upon lists of words, most of which she didn’t recognise. Scanning through, she eventually found “humanoid”.  
‘Oh,’ she muttered, glancing over at Myotismon. ‘Makes sense.’  
‘What does it say?’  
‘Humanoid - a being resembling the shape of a human.’  
‘There.’  
Myotismon picked up his book and sat back down in his chair.  
‘If there are any other words you don’t know, look them up in there.’  
She continued to stare at him, chewing the inside of her lip.  
‘What?’ Myotismon asked with a growl.  
‘What’s a human?’  
‘Look it up!’  
‘Right!’ she said nodding her head and adding an apology before flicking through the book again.  
‘It will be just before humanoid.’  
‘Oh.’  
She found it quickly then, reading the definition, the result of which was more confusion and questions than she had started with.  
She turned the pages back and forth, finding “Earth”, then “Planet”, then “Chosen” and finally “Destiny”.  
Shaking her head, she decided to go back to the first book.  
Reading in silence again, checking up some words every so often, she found the contents of her book enthralling, her reading getting faster and faster until she was interrupted by Myotismon.  
‘You should get to the east gate, shifts will be changing soon.’  
How had the time gone so quickly? She realised she hadn’t eaten all day, or done anything much.  
Closing her book and picking up the dictionary, she put them back on the shelves, bowing to Myotismon before leaving, briefly contemplating a drop into the kitchens before she headed out to the castle walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for not uploading for a while! I've been planning my wedding and working on commissions! Next chapter up soon!


	17. Chapter 17

As the night went on, it got colder, so cold that everyone’s breath could be seen in front of them as they breathed. The guard room, built into the side of the wall behind the portcullis, was barely big enough to fit one of the Digimon on duty that night, even Gatomon being the smallest. She was teamed with a Bakemon and another Champion level Digimon called SangLoupmon. He reminded Gatomon of Reppamon, with bladed armour over his ashen fur - Reppamon had been more talkative however.  
The night was quiet, thankfully, although Bakemon informed her that this was when you had to be most on your guard.  
‘How long are we out here for?’ Gatomon asked.  
‘All night,’ Bakemon replied.  
SangLoupmon scoffed from where he was sat at the lowered gate.  
‘What?’ Gatomon shouted over to him, sneering at the hound.  
When he didn’t answer, she leant back against the inner doorway of the guard room, wrapping her paws around the tops of her arms, trying to shield herself from the biting chill.  
‘How long have we even been out here?’  
‘An hour, maybe two?’ Bakemon replied.  
‘If you’re just going to stand there complaining all night, get back to the barracks,’ SangLoupmon snapped over his shoulder.  
‘Are you talking to me?’ Gatomon asked, standing upright again.  
‘You’re the only one complaining, aren’t you?’  
‘What part of me asking how long we’ve been out here is a complaint?’  
‘You two, shut up!’ Bakemon interrupted, gliding towards the portcullis. ‘What’s that noise?’  
‘What noise?’ Gatomon asked.  
‘There isn’t a noise. I would have heard it,’ SangLoupmon added, joining Bakemon at the gate.  
Gatomon stepped behind them, craning her neck to see over SangLoupmon’s shoulders.  
‘Hooves,’ SangLoupmon announced eventually.  
‘Who could it be?’ Bakemon asked.  
Their questions were answered when a Unimon appeared in the distance, heading straight for the gate.  
‘What’s he doing here?’ SangLoupmon asked, teeth bared.  
Gatomon continued to stare at the fast approaching Digimon.  
‘He’s not one of ours?’  
Bakemon shook his head, SangLoupmon beginning to growl.  
‘Have you seen him around the barracks?’ he snapped.   
‘I don’t spend much time in the barracks,’ Gatomon hissed back, finally shoving the dog to the side so she could get a better view. ‘He’s not slowing down.’  
Unimon’s canter turned to a gallop and he lowered his head as he got closer to the gateway, the three behind stepping back in unison.  
‘He’s going to disintegrate himself!’ SangLoupmon yelled over the sound of thundering hooves. ‘He’s on a damn suicide mission!’  
Conflicted between her fight or flight response, Gatomon had no time to raise the gate as Unimon crashed head first into the iron bars, a blood curdling crunch sounding as the metal plate atop his head collided with steel, cracking it down the middle before he crumpled to the floor, data dissolving a second later. As it dissipated into the air, a metal cog shot up, retreating from the gate and flying back the way Unimon had come.  
‘A Black Gear,’ SangLoupmon announced.  
‘Devimon?’ Gatomon asked, remembering Myotismon mentioning them in connection to him before.  
The hound nodded his armoured head.  
‘Yeh. Bakemon, go tell the boss what just happened.’  
Before the spook could move, the ground began to rumble, the sound of hooves, ten times heavier than Unimon’s began to sound, shouting and yelling coming from the thicket down the hill.  
‘Sovereigns, we’re under attack! Devimon has an army!’ Bakemon groaned.  
‘An army of Unimon isn't going to get him very far,’ Gatomon growled, eyes narrowing as she stared through the gate. ‘Bakemon, inform Myotismon, wake the troops, tell the other gates to watch out and stay alert.’  
‘Uh…’ Bakemon began, glancing at SangLoupmon.  
‘That’s an order!’ Gatomon yelled at him, turning her glare towards him.  
‘Yessir!’  
Without another protest, he swiftly floated back towards the castle.  
‘You’re not in charge here, kitty,’ SangLoupmon pointed out.  
‘I think my quarters in the castle say I am, mutt.’  
She wasn’t afraid. She’d been here enough times before. Besides, Unimon were only Champion level Digimon - nothing she couldn’t handle.  
‘Have you ever taken on a Digimon under the influence of a Black Gear?’  
‘No, but I’ve taken out Ultimates five times my size.’  
‘Fine, you’re about to face a dozen of them.’  
‘They’re Champions.’  
SangLoupmon laughed, something that didn’t sound natural to him.  
‘With the power of the Black Gears behind them, they’ve got the power of Ultimates. Myotismon himself would have a hard time taking all them out.’  
‘Watch it,’ Gatomon warned.  
‘What? Kitty doesn’t like hearing her owner being bad mouthed?’  
She bawled her paw into a fist, ready to swing for him. She stopped herself, clenching her jaw instead as she decided to save her energy for the Unimon.  
‘This is only a small attack, there might be more behind them or they’ll try and take the main gate,’ Gatomon thought aloud, beginning to pace. ‘We need mons to reinforce this gate first and wait for any signal from the other gate houses that they’re under attack.’  
‘The guards on the battlements will tell us first,’ SangLoupmon said matter of factly.  
‘They didn’t tell us the Unimon were coming,’ Gatomon snapped.  
He was lost for words at that, finally nodding in agreement.  
‘Go find out what’s distracting them so we can give Lord Myotismon a full report.’  
‘I don’t take orders from you,’ SangLoupmon growled.  
‘Fine, then I’ll include your insubordination in the report! You’re stubborn, and you may not like me, but I don’t think you want to face Myotismon’s wrath, do you, doggy?’  
They stared each other down for a moment, Gatomon’s glare overcoming him despite her small stature, and SangLoupmon yielded to her.  
‘Fine,’ he huffed before turning and stalking away from her.  
She watched for a moment, then turned her eyes back to the approaching stampede. She still had a few minutes, ten at the most. They were halfway up the hillside by now, going slower than the single Unimon had. Moonlight reflected off their white coats and their black wings dipped and rose as they ran, yellow manes and tails flicking and fluttering behind in the headwind.  
‘Gatomon!’  
She turned to the owner of the voice, finding Karatenmon along with Dinohyumon as well as two Devidramon’s with drool hanging from their open mouths and the Bakemon she had sent to collect them.  
‘This is all we’ve got?’ she asked, remembering what SangLoupmon said about the Unimon’s enhanced strength.  
‘And Myotismon?’  
‘The master won’t concern himself with this attack unless it worsens,’ Bakemon explained.  
She gave a roll of her eyes, turning back to the gate.  
‘What’s the plan?’ Karatenmon asked, Irataka swords drawn.  
He was looking to her, as was everyone else, the Devidramon prowling close round them, sniffing the air and growling as the wind brought the smell of the Unimon to them.  
She thought fast, looking back to the heard. They were organised, four rows of three Unimon side by side.   
‘Keep the gate down, let them take themselves out like that first one did. If there are any left, raise the gate and fight them.’  
‘You almost sound as if you know what you’re doing,’ Dinohyumon teased, drawing his own Akinakes.  
‘How’re you going to fight them? You still don’t have an attack do you?’ Karatenmon asked.  
She shook her head.  
‘You’re right, but I’ve got claws and I know how to use them,’ she told him with a sly grin.  
‘Well get ready!’ Dinohyumon told her, shouting over the growing sound of hooves.  
The Unimon were feet from the gate now and would hit it in a few moments. In that time, Gatomon, Karatenmon, and Dinohyumon stood beside each other just back from the gate, Bakemon and the two Devidramon standing behind them in the archway on the inside of the wall.  
‘Ready?’ Karatenmon asked, fist tightening around his sword.  
Gatomon nodded, not having time to reply properly before the first row of Unimon hit the gate. Beneath them, the ground shook and the portcullis rattled in its tracks but it stayed fast and managed to destroy one of the Unimon, doing nothing to deter the others. They crowded against the gate, pushing forward, pushing mouths, horns and hooves through the latticework of the metal.  
Karatenmon and Dinohyumon swiped at the limbs with their swords, Dinohyumon’s blade getting stuck in a hoof. As Dinohyumon pulled his weapon back, the Unimon stuck it’s horn through the bars, piercing Dinohyumon’s face.  
Gatomon clawed and scratched where she could, but couldn’t achieve much with the gate in the way. Behind her, the Devidramon hissed and spat, snapping their jaws between the gaps that the three ahead of them left.  
‘They’re not going to give up!’ Karatenmon growled, loud enough for the others to hear. ‘Not with those Black Gears controlling them.’  
Finally releasing his blade, Dinohyumon, with one hand clutched against his cheek, thrust his sword through the gate, hitting the already injured Unimon in the neck. It fell, the Unimon behind it immediately advancing forward and trampling it under its feet until it deteriorated into data particles.  
‘Two down, ten to go,’ Gatomon said, glancing over the Unimon crowd.  
Karatenmon followed Dinohyumon’s lead, jabbing his sword through the portcullis at anything he could. The three Unimon against the gate stepped back, forcing the others behind to retreat a few paces.  
‘We should attack them. Forget swords, it’s too slow,’ Karatenmon shouted over the noise.  
‘If you use your attack you’ll blast through the gate and we can’t let them in whilst there’s still that many!’ Gatomon told him.  
Suddenly, silence fell, the Unimon stilling.  
‘Wha-?’ Dinohyumon asked, craning his neck to see through the gate properly.  
‘They’re…’ Gatomon trailed off.  
Karatenmon lowered his swords.  
‘Retreating…’  
The Unimon stepped backwards, continuing a few feet, changing their grouping to two front rows of two Unimon on front of two rows of three.  
‘Get back from the gate!’ Gatomon yelled as she realised what the Unimon were doing.  
The rows at the front lowered their heads, the first row behind keeping poised, and the row behind them beginning to rear.  
‘Aerial Attack!’  
Their mouths opened all at once, a burst of blue light coming from each, blasting into the gate, bending the metal on impact and concaving the bars in towards the castle.  
Behind, the group of defending Digimon were thrown backwards, landing hard on the ground, Gatomon skidding across the asphalt, grazing up her legs and the backs of her arms.  
Groaning, Karatenmon and Dinohyumon gathered up their scattered weapons, none of them having time to fully get to their feet before the Unimon were racing towards the gate again.  
Another was killed on impact, but it didn’t stop them. Three times they retreated and barged the gate again, each time the gate rattling and the walls around it shaking.  
‘It’s not going to hold!’ Dinohyumon roared.  
Gatomon thought quickly again.  
‘Then copy their strategy,’ she ordered. ‘Devidramon, to the front!’  
Hissing, the pair did as they were told.  
‘You two, behind them. Bakemon, me and you at the back. Don’t let them get any further than the gate house!’  
They fell into formation, bracing themselves as the Unimon rammed the gate a final time, finally pushing it from its tracks.  
‘Back!’ Gatomon yelled, realising that if it were to fall, the gate would hit the Devidramon.  
They all moved a few steps, Devidramon stopping just outside the gate house.  
The Unimon waited for a while as the gate rocked and creaked, the group inside of the gate watching too, waiting to see if it would fall. Then, after three long minutes of silence, the front row of Unimon charged again, gate clattering on top of them and wiping them both out in one blow.  
‘Seven left,’ Gatomon shouted as the gate falling to the floor as the Unimon turned to data. ‘Don’t break ranks and don’t let them through the gatehouse.’  
‘Yessir!’  
The Devidramon growled and snarled, spitting and hissing through bared teeth as the two Unimon charged in. The riled beasts snapped and clawed at them, one falling almost straight away, both Devidramon pouncing on it and finishing it off. A Unimon from the row behind took its place, Karatenmon and Dinohyumon taking them both one on one. Gatomon and Bakemon kept in the inside archway, watching, Gatomon keeping an eye on what was going on.  
Dinohyumon let out a cry, falling to the ground, clutching the old wound to his face. The Unimon above him opened his mouth, ready to release its Aerial Attack, but Gatomon, claws out and jaw clenched tight, jumped at it, swiping both paws together across its face. Rearing, losing balance, Unimon fell to the ground, giving Dinohyumon enough time to roll over and stab his sword into it.  
At the same time, Karatenmon’s opponent burst into a cloud of data.  
‘Thanks,’ Dinohyumon said with a nod to Gatomon as they both jumped back into formation, while the next pair of Unimon navigated over the holes in the gate. One was pounced on by the pair of Devidramon again, the other one squealed as it twisted its hoof in the metalwork, crashing to the floor with its leg folding in a strange angle.  
‘Guess it’s only fair to put you out of your misery now,’ Karatenmon growled before bringing his sword down over its neck.  
Before the dispersing data of the other two had disappeared on the wind, the final two Unimon were through the gate, heads down, taking the opportunity to retreat a little whilst their opponents had been distracted. Now, with the distance, they charged, picking up the pace quickly. One of the Unimon bowled the Devidramon over, sending one dragon flying halfway through the castle grounds and the other slamming against the wall.  
Karatenmon dropped to his knees as the other Unimon came for him. He held his sword to the side with both hands, only swinging it back as the Unimon was a foot away from him, digging it into its side, dragging it through its belly. Bakemon and Gatomon behind him jumped out of the way as the horse fell forwards, slumping to the floor and skidding as its momentum ran out.  
Dinohyumon battled head to head with the final Unimon, the others watching from the sidelines. Dinohyumon was in a sorry state, Gatomon realised, a long gash weeping data from below his right eye and his bandana torn off his head.  
He landed a final blow onto Unimon, letting out a yell as he did, then, turned to the rest of the group, the two Devidramon having limped back to them.  
‘Get yourself to the medical bay,’ Gatomon told him.  
He nodded, sheathing his sword before wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. As he walked past her, Gatomon saw his entire right side of his face was swollen, and the wound ran over his eyelid. Something about it brought on a pain in her chest.  
‘You done good kid,’ Karatenmon told her as she looked back round to the rest.  
‘Yeh, thanks for not getting us killed,’ Bakemon added.  
She nodded her head the once, face straight. This wasn’t a time to be congratulating herself. There was danger ahead with the gate open to attack and there being the possibility of a follow up to the Unimon.  
‘I should go report to Myotismon. Can you both stay on the gate? I want to find out what kept SangLoupmon for so long too.’  
Karatenmon and Bakemon nodded, bidding her farewell as she headed back towards the castle.  
Moving quickly through the corridors, she was knocking at Myotismon’s door in no time.  
‘Enter,’ he called from inside.  
Gatomon tiptoed for the handle, stumbling a little as she unlocked the door and opened it. Closing it behind her, she waited for Myotismon to acknowledge her presence.  
He was already stood, his usual presentation restored and any dishevelment from earlier that night having been rectified.  
‘My Lord,’ Gatomon began when she grew tired of waiting.  
‘Did I give you permission to speak?’ he snapped, glaring at her.  
‘No, My Lord, but I have something important to report.’  
She bowed her head, glancing up at him as she heard him step closer.  
‘Speak.’  
She straightened.  
‘There was an attack on the main east gate. A dozen Unimon-’  
‘You’ve wasted your time, Bakemon informed me about half an hour ago. I take it the problem has now been dealt with?’  
‘Yes, My Lord, by Dinohyumon, Bakemon, Karatenmon and myself-’  
‘You?’  
She stuttered, nodding eventually.  
‘Yes, sir.’  
His eyes narrowed as he frowned behind his mask.  
‘The Unimon were being controlled by Black Gears,’ Gatomon continued slowly, unsure if she should have.  
‘Devimon,’ Myotismon muttered, jaw tightening.  
‘I believe so.’  
There was silence for a few moments, Myotismon folding his arms over his chest.  
‘That overgrown imp will pay for this,’ he snarled, beginning to pace back and forth.  
Gatomon watched, shrinking back as she saw the agitation in him grow.  
‘You may return to your post,’ Myotismon told her finally, remembering she was there.  
Gatomon hesitated, raising on her tiptoes and then rocking back.  
‘What?’ Myotismon asked, glaring. ‘This is your punishment for your absence, or have you forgotten?’  
‘No,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘But there is no longer a gate at the east. It got knocked down by the Unimon.’  
‘Then if you’re attacked again, you’ll have more of a challenge, won’t you?’  
It was her turn to grit her teeth, bowing her head again so she could stare daggers at the floor.  
‘Gatomon, look at me,’ Myotismon ordered, standing in front of her.  
She half shook her head, before forcing herself to tip her chin up to him, staring him straight in the eyes.  
‘You have shown loyalty and competence tonight, but this is nothing more than what is demanded of every other soldier who serves under me, and as per your request, that is exactly what you are. Now stop wasting my time and get back to your post, or I will punish you for defying orders!’  
She could feel the sting of tears prickling at the backs of hers eyes at the raising of his voice. She wasn’t sure why, and she sure as hell wasn’t letting him see her cry.  
‘Yessir,’ she said quietly, so he didn’t hear the croak in her voice.  
Bowing, she left, going back to the gate in silence.  
Karatenmon and Bakemon were awaiting her, joined again by SangLoupmon.  
‘What did he say?’ Karatenmon asked.  
‘Nothing,’ she snapped, unable to restrain her foul mood. ‘Just go back to the barracks. We need to concentrate on our duties.’  
‘Fine.’  
He left with no further word, Bakemon frowning at Gatomon.  
‘What?’ she asked him, folding her arms.  
SangLoupmon let out a scoff at her, earning a glare.  
‘Where even were you during the fight, mutt?’  
‘Finding out exactly why the battlements were unmonned,’ he growled back. ‘And making sure those who were meant to be on duty won’t be inclined to slack off again. If that’s okay with you?’  
‘Fine. You wouldn’t have been any help here anyway.’  
She stepped over the fallen portcullis, leaning into the doorway of the guard room again as she had done before the attack. Letting out a sigh, she resigned herself to this being a long night, and knowing she would have no time to rest during the day made her dread tomorrows duty. She wouldn’t have the strength to fight off another attack like that again any time soon, of that she was sure. Did Myotismon not realise that Digimon needed sleep and time to recover? Of course he did, she knew that, he just didn’t care.


	18. Chapter 18

As the sun rose the next morning, the night team of guards at the gate changed to those on the day shift, explaining what had happened with the portcullis before they went.   
Gatomon half dragged herself up to her room, crossing paths with Phantomon on the way.  
‘Apparently there was quite a commotion last night.’  
Gatomon shrugged, too tired to come up with much of a reply.  
‘Nothing I couldn’t handle.’  
Beneath his hood, the spectre smirked.  
‘Of course. Same again tonight, and don’t forget training - I’ve been ordered not to go easy on you anymore.’  
She groaned audibly, letting her head droop.  
‘And from tomorrow, Myotismon wishes you to attend the library from sunrise until your chores in the afternoons.’  
‘Huh? Why from tomorrow?’ she asked, head snapping back up and ears pricking up. ‘Why not today?’  
‘Piedmon is here to discuss last night's events.’  
A chill ran through her at the mention of that name. Myotismon scared her half to death. He was capable of torture, murder, destroying an entire village if he so wished, but Piedmon had brought Myotismon to his knees with a single slap, and he’d instilled enough fear into her to make her run despite any consequences she might have faced.  
‘Understandable,’ she muttered. ‘I need sleep,’ she continued louder.  
‘Make the most of it,’ Phantomon said with a nod.  
‘Only two more nights of guard duty.’  
‘You’ll never last if you find that difficult.’  
‘Go away,’ she said with a roll of her eyes.  
With a quiet chuckle, he bade her farewell and she continued on to her room, collapsing on the bed and immediately falling asleep, thankfully waking up before midday in time for her chores, not that she was excited for them.  
Stretching her arms above her head as she went, she made her way to the stables and found SkullMeramon. He gave her a broom immediately and nodded to the stalls. She noticed that today they were empty, no Devidramon in sight.  
‘Where are they all?’ she asked.  
‘Working,’ SkullMeramon replied bluntly.  
‘Not in a talkative mood?’ she half joked as she began to sweep one of the stalls.  
‘Not here to talk.’  
‘Of course.’  
If this is how he was being, it would be a long afternoon.  
Stopping to cool down after the first stall was cleared, she watched SkullMeramon work. Hauling bales of hay ten times the size of her around as if they weighed nothing. Dragging wood across the stables and repairing a splintered door in minutes.  
‘What’re you staring at?’ he growled at her.  
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, picking the broom up and heading to the next stall.  
‘You need to work quicker,’ SkullMeramon told her.  
‘I’ve only got short arms.’  
‘Doesn’t mean you get preferential treatment.’  
She blinked, stopping in her tracks before turning to him.  
‘Since when do I get preferential treatment?’ she snapped.  
SkullMeramon shrugged, hammering a nail into a wooden plank.  
‘Never said you did.’  
Gatomon narrowed her eyes at him, gripping her broom handle tighter.  
‘But if anyone else had fucked up that bad last night, they’d be deleted or in the dungeons.’  
‘What?’  
Without a reply, he hammered in another nail.  
‘I wasn’t aware you were there last night,’ Gatomon said as she approached him.  
‘Didn’t need to be. You were the talk of the barracks all night.’  
‘Oh yeah? And who was talking?’  
She knew the answer without even having to ask but something needed the affirmation.  
‘SangLoupmon,’ SkullMeramon answered.  
Of course. Just as she thought.  
If he was on duty with her tonight, she’d teach that mangy mutt a lesson.  
‘You believe his word over mine?’ she asked.  
Picking up another nail, SkullMeramon shrugged.  
‘From what I know of you, standing back and letting someone else fight, especially since you have no attack, sounds about right.’  
‘You know what I’m capable of even without attacks!’ Gatomon snapped through gritted teeth.  
How dare he? How dare SangLoupmon?  
‘Did SangLoupmon tell you where he was during the fight?’  
SkullMeramon shrugged again.  
‘Does it matter? You let everyone else take the fall for you and fight on your behalf. You put yourself in charge and didn’t get any dirt under your claws,’ he told her. ‘Myotismon taught you well.’  
She dropped the broom, handle clattering to the ground. SkullMeramon flicked his gaze to her for a moment and then back to his work as Gatomon stood frozen. She was still and silent for a moment as something inside her snapped. Knowing she couldn’t and shouldn’t put a scratch on him, however, instead, she threw the broom at him and stalked off, unsure where to go apart from where she should have been after her chores anyway.  
‘You’re early,’ Phantomon said as he glanced over at the approaching Champion.  
‘I told you before, I’m not cleaning out those damn overgrown lizards. And SkullMeramon can get lost too.’  
She looked over to the group Phantomon was in charge of. A couple of Numemon, a Floramon, and two Gazimon. There were seven in total.  
‘What’re they doing?’ she asked Phantomon.  
‘Punishment.’  
‘Why?’  
‘One of the Numemon was too slow.’  
She cocked her head to the side as she watched them running back and forth between each wall.  
‘So they all suffer?’ she pointed out.  
‘I find it encourages them to do better. Groups who train together usually become something of friends. A good friend doesn’t want to see their friends suffer, so they run faster, fight harder and get stronger,’ he explained.  
Gatomon nodded, the idea making sense - even with her lack of knowledge on friendships.  
‘Plus, every so often, when one recruit continuously lets the team down, the others turn on them and do my job of weeding out the weak.’  
‘They kill them?’  
Phantomon gave a low chuckle.  
‘Isn’t life tough for the lowest of the low?’  
She needed to forget the unease thinking like that gave her. She needed to untwist the knots in her stomach at how Dobermon eat Dobermon castle life was. How long had she been here now? Honestly, she couldn’t remember. But the regularity of death and deletion was still something she couldn’t wholeheartedly accept.  
After a while, the boredom of watching the recruits from the sidelines got the better of Gatomon, and she decided to join in, sparring with one of the Gazimon, running, dodging, showing them how it was done. She was almost enjoying it, that was until Phantomon called for a halt.   
It was only then that Gatomon realised a Bakemon was talking to Phantomon.  
‘You’re dismissed early today. But I want you all here an hour early tomorrow to make up for it,’ he ordered.  
There was a groan from them before they left, probably heading for the mess hall.  
Gatomon wished she could go with them, but decided against it since she still had her own training session with Phantomon.  
At a nod of the spook’s head, the Bakemon left, Phantomon turning to Gatomon.  
‘We’ll skip your training tonight too. The master has summoned the officers to the throne room,’ Phantomon told her.  
‘Oh… I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said, unable to hide her disappointment.  
‘That includes you.’  
‘But I’m not a…’ she began, earning a head tilt from Phantomon.   
‘Others may not be impressed by your show last night but apparently the master was. So buck up and let's get moving.’  
Her ears pricked up again and her tail flicked behind her even if she couldn’t bring on a smile.  
‘Right,’ she said with a nod, following him as he went.  
Why was Myotismon going to the extravagance of calling everyone to his throne room?  
She let out an almost silent gasp as she remembered what Phantomon told her this morning.  
‘Why’ve you stopped?’ Phantomon asked, turning to Gatomon.  
‘Hey, do you think Piedmon’s in there?’ she said with a nod of her head towards the end of the corridor.  
‘He’s long gone. Never stays more than a few hours.’  
Her heart had stopped beating in her chest as the thought had manifested in her head, but with Phantomon’s reply, she let out the breath she’d held.  
The Bakemon at the doors of the throne room opened them as they approached, Gatomon hanging back as Phantomon entered. Taking in a breath, lifting her chin a little, she followed.  
Myotismon was already present, sat in his throne, upright and with one hand gripping an arm of his chair, nails dug in.  
Gatomon saw his eyes scan through the crowd and he gave a little nod of his head, raising to his feet. At this action, the room fell to hush and all attentions turned to Myotismon.  
It wasn’t until she craned her neck that Gatomon noticed a Digimon stood at Myotismon’s feet. A blue, winged Digimon about a foot and a half high stood, nearly indistinguishable chin raised as high as it would go.  
The blue mon watched Myotismon as he stepped forwards, all other eyes in the room trained on the vampire, including Gatomon’s.  
‘I have come to the decision that an assault on Devimon is unnecessary,’ Myotismon announced. ‘My sources inform me that the attack made by the Digimon under the control of Black Gears was not ordered by Devimon.’  
A grumbling bubbled in the crowd, quickly silenced by a glare from Myotismon.  
‘My Lord, if you don’t mind me asking,’ Phantomon asked, floating a foot higher so he could be seen above the crowd. ‘If not under Devimon’s command, what did cause the Unimon to attack?’  
‘Etemon,’ Myotismon replied, not looking at Phantomon directly.  
‘He wouldn’t have the nerve,’ SkullMeramon growled from across the other side of them room.  
‘Quiet!’ snapped the blue Digimon behind Myotismon’s cloak tails.  
‘It was an accident, for which Etemon has given a convincing apology,’ Myotismon continued.  
‘Yeh, apparently in his efforts to spread his Dark Network as far as possible, he released some Black Gears that found their way to a herd of Unimon,’ the blue Digimon explained.  
Having lowered back to head height, Gatomon stretched up and tugged at Phantomon’s cloak. As another mumble of disbelief erupted, Phantomon lowered himself closer to Gatomon.  
‘Who's that guy next to the master?’ she whispered to him.  
‘DemiDevimon. He’s been out assisting Etemon for a long time.’  
She nodded her head, wondering how long that was exactly? She hadn’t seen him in the time she’d been here. How long had she been here? A question she remembered asking herself earlier that day. Time didn’t seem to be a concept within the castle walls.  
‘Phantomon..?’ Gatomon began, only to be silenced by Myotismon dismissing the room.  
They all filed out without question, going about their separate ways. Waiting for Phantomon to float away, Gatomon hung back, glancing through the crack between the wall and the open door at DemiDevimon and Myotismon still in the throne room.  
She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but DemiDevimon kept changing between one foot and the other, Gatomon guessed a sign of nerves.  
After Myotismon gave a wave of his hand, DemiDevimon left, Myotismon sitting back in his throne and a Bakemon with a glass of wine on a silver tray coming to his side straight away.  
Gatomon quickly turned and hurried down the corridor, half running to catch up with Phantomon.  
‘Hey Whiskers!’  
Both Gatomon and Phantomon turned to DemiDevimon, who was bobbing towards them, wings flapping erratically.  
‘Don’tcha know it’s rude to eavesdrop?’  
Gatomon’s eyes grew wide for a moment before she composed herself.  
‘I don’t know what you mean, Fang Face,’ she retorted.  
‘Real funny,’ DemiDevimon sneered. ‘You better watch yah step, Kitty.’  
‘Is that a threat?’ she growled, paws balling into fists.  
Before either could say another word, Phantomon’s scythe blade lowered between them, creating a barrier.  
‘Both of you, mess hall, now,’ Phantomon ordered.  
DemiDevimon huffed, flying ahead, leaving Phantomon to glare at Gatomon.  
‘What?’ she asked with a shrug of her shoulders.  
Phantomon raised his blade closer to Gatomon’s neck.  
‘Keep in line. Don’t be stupid enough to rise to the bait. DemiDevimon has a way of wriggling out of bad situations even when he is the cause - and you’re on thin ice.’  
‘Why do you care?’  
Phantomon swung his weapon, turning it blade down at his side.  
‘I don’t care. I just don’t want the headache.’  
‘You tell me a lot,’ Gatomon pointed out. ‘Why? What do you get out of keeping me in check?’  
Phantomon’s eyes narrowed.  
‘I don’t like what you’re implying,’ he began. ‘I report on everything that goes on around here. The less that happens, the less time comes out of my day passing on information to Myotismon.’  
‘You’re a snitch?’  
‘You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Gatomon. You don’t have many allies around here.’  
She gritted her teeth, realising now she had to be suspicious of everyone. She already didn’t trust anyone and knew no one would ever be a friend out of the goodness of their hearts.  
‘Fine,’ she conceded eventually, side eying Phantomon’s scythe.  
‘I gave you an order, follow it,’ Phantomon told her.  
She nodded her head and set off down the corridor again, Phantomon following a few feet behind.  
Luckily, it was only those who had been in the throne room in the dining hall, sat at one long bench.  
As Gatomon perched on an empty seat at the end, she overheard DemiDevimon, his voice easily recognisable in the chatter.  
‘Ignore him,’ Phantomon warned from across the bench.  
‘Don’t tell me what to do. I’m an officer too now, remember?’  
‘By the skin of your teeth I heard!’  
Gatomon looked round, finding DemiDevimon bobbing over the table a few heads down.  
‘And for not doing much,’ SangLoupmon added from just behind him.  
Gatomon stayed silent a moment, baring her teeth at them.  
‘But then, it’s not surprising when you’re the master’s defenceless pet,’ DemiDevimon scoffed.  
‘I’m no one’s pet!’ she shot back, earning a few stares from a handful of other officers.  
‘Look at you, ah course you are. What else are you good for?’ DemiDevimon asked.  
‘I’ll show you what for in a minute!’  
An “ooh” sounded through the spectators, someone laughing at her remark.  
‘What you gonna do, Kitty? Get someone else to fight for you? I heard that’s what you’re best at.’  
‘That’s it,’ Gatomon growled, jumping onto the table and stepping forward. ‘One more word and I’m going to put a few more holes in those rags you call wings.’  
‘Try me,’ DemiDevimon challenged.  
Before either could speak again, SkullMeramon had slapped DemiDevimon away with an oversized hand, sending him hurtling across the room, and Phantomon had dragged Gatomon back off the table by her ear.  
‘What did I say? Anymore and I’ll recommend Myotismon punish you with a night in the dungeons,’ Phantomon hissed quietly.  
She mumbled under her breath, going back to her seat and settling down.   
DemiDevimon said nothing further as she ate, for which she was admittedly thankful despite being in the mood to punch something or someone.  
She was mentally exhausted from so much conflict, but knew she had to take on any challenge thrown at her to save face, despite Phantomon’s warnings of backing down. She also knew DemiDevimon was going to continue to be a problem for however long he was here, and she needed to think of some more effective ways to make him back off. She wouldn’t be punished for having a battle of words with him, would she?   
Only if someone like Phantomon heard.   
She needed to be sneakier. She needed to be so much more than she was. Everyday was going to be a battle to survive for her, and she intended to win every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah yeh I'm still working on this!  
> Please leave a comment if you have time!


	19. Chapter 19

‘This is all your fault,’ Gatomon growled, folding her arms over her chest as she threw herself back against the wall, not caring that the jagged stones cut into her shoulders.  
‘My fault?’ DemiDevimon sneered. ‘You’re the one who threw that plate at Phantomon.  
‘I was aiming for you - you knew he was behind you and ducked!’  
‘Like I’m going to stay still and let you knock me out with a plate!’  
They both stood to attention as they heard the latch on the door a few feet away being lifted and watched with bated breath as a disgruntled looking Phantomon came out.  
‘The Master wishes to see you both, immediately,’ he told them, eyes glaring from under his hood but voice level.  
The pair exchanged a glance before going to the door, Gatomon knocking since it had closed behind Phantomon.  
‘Come,’ Myotismon said from inside.  
DemiDevimon flew to the handle, pushing open the door. Both stepped in at the same time, hanging back near the threshold, neither wanting to get too close to Myotismon.  
He was already stood at the front of his desk, brows furrowed behind his mask, arms folded over his chest, cloak tails brushing the floor.  
DemiDevimon stood next to Gatomon, wings folded behind his back. Gatomon stood in the same way, arms folded behind her, toes twitching in anticipation.  
‘You know why you’re here?’ Myotismon asked almost calmly, staring between the pair.  
Gatomon opened her mouth to speak, DemiDevimon beating her to it.  
He stepped forwards, tipping in a bow.  
‘Master, it wasn’t my fault, that mangy cat has been trying to provoke me since I got back a week ago-’  
He was silenced by Myotismon’s foot swinging into his face, sending the bat soaring into the wall with an audible crack. He landed face down in a crumpled heap, not moving for a few moments.  
Gatomon watched, the thought he might be dead crossing her mind - not that she particularly cared. Realising Myotismon was glaring at her now, she quickly bowed her head, ears flat against her skull.  
With a groan, DemiDevimon got back to his feet, swaying slightly.  
‘Both of you ought to be strung up by your ears in the dungeons!’ Myotismon snapped.  
She stayed down, and silent, knowing nothing she could say would stop Myotismon’s anger. It was better to let him take the most of it out on DemiDevimon than her.  
‘You are both high ranking officers, you are looked up to as the example that all lower troops must follow. If you two, or any of the other officers show sub par behaviour, the rest of them fall like dominos. Do you understand?’  
Gatomon couldn’t help but hear Piedmon in his wording.  
‘Yessir,’ the two said together, bowing again.  
Myotismon turned, striding behind his desk and sitting down.  
‘DemiDevimon, guard duty until the next stage of your mission. Gatomon, you will accompany him on his retrieval. You’ll learn to get along and drop this pathetic rivalry.’  
‘Retrieval?’ Gatomon asked, ears pricking up.  
‘Please master!’ DemiDevimon whined over her, wings ruffling. ‘Don’t make me go with that useless feline.’  
The glare Myotismon gave silenced them both.  
‘Fine, DemiDevimon, you may stay here with hooks through your ankles in the dungeons.’  
Even the thought made Gatomon’s legs ache and DemiDevimon’s grimace spoke for him.  
‘I’ll go back out on my mission with Gatomon, sir,’ the bat muttered with a sigh.  
‘That’s what I thought.’  
Myotismon’s satisfied smirk twisted a knot in Gatomon’s stomach. He knew she and DemiDevimon wouldn’t get along, and he knew as soon as they reported back of their failure, he could reprimand them both for it.  
‘My Lord, maybe taking a few troops along with us might be beneficial? If DemiDevimon has attempted this… retrieval before unsuccessfully then it can be no easy task. Some help or extra mon power could come in handy?’ Gatomon suggested quickly, head bowed as she spoke.  
She felt both pairs of eyes on her, burning holes into the backs of her head before Myotismon nodded.  
‘Fine. The cohorts Phantomon has just put through basic training seem competent enough. Take them with you. You leave at sunrise in three days. Anymore reports of you two causing trouble in the meantime, you know the consequences.’  
DemiDevimon was eyeing her suspiciously as Gatomon glanced at him.  
‘Thank you my Lord,’ she said, head dipping again.  
‘You may leave.’  
Not having to be told twice, the pair pushed through the door at the same time, falling out into the hallway and walking a few steps away from the room, waiting for the door to shut before DemiDevimon headbutted Gatomon in the stomach.  
‘What in the Dark Area did you do that for?’ he snapped.  
Straightening, trying not to show he had winded her a little, Gatomon glared at him.  
‘What do you mean?’ she hissed.  
‘“A few extra troops”. I don’t need a few extra troops, I don’t even need you!’  
‘Well apparently, you do! I haven’t seen you in all the time I’ve been here. If your task was so easy, you’d have done it by now.’  
‘It’s not easy. A newbie little brat like you wouldn’t understand!’  
Curiosity was getting the better of her.  
‘Then tell me,’ she demanded, arms folded over her chest.  
DemiDevimon faltered, shaking his head.  
‘It’s a need to know basis. If the master ain’t told yah, you don’t need to know.’  
‘Alright, I’ll go back and ask him right now, shall I?’  
‘No!’ DemiDevimon half yelled, wings flapping. ‘If you’re not meant to know and the master knows you know because I’ve let you know, he’ll kill me - I know it!’  
Gatomon frowned and wondered if he actually realised how he sounded. Opening her mouth to speak, she shut it and shook her head before getting back to the subject.  
‘I won’t tell him,’ she said quietly, staring him down.  
DemiDevimon looked as though he was wrestling with himself, glancing around, looking back down the corridor at Myotismon’s door.  
‘Not here,’ he said, nodding his head down the corridor.  
She followed him as he took a few steps forward, frowning suspiciously. He hated her, she was sure of it. Why was he giving up so easily? Unless he was lying.  
‘I’m only telling you this to make my job easier,’ he began quietly. ‘But if we find what we’re looking for next week then all credit goes to me, understand?’  
She gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing at him.  
‘Fine,’ she conceded eventually.  
Glancing around again, DemiDevimon continued.  
‘There’s a book in the library, it’s leather bound, old-’  
‘That’s ninety percent of the books in the library then.’  
DemiDevimon glared at her.  
‘Are you going to let me talk or keep making wise cracks?’  
‘Sorry,’ Gatomon muttered.  
‘It’s a dark blue colour. It should be in the shelf right at the back of the library, nearest the window. Second shelf from the top. It has faded gold writing on the cover. Find it, read it. It has information on what we’re searching for.’  
‘Why can’t you just tell me instead of being so cryptic?’  
‘Why should you get it easy when I had to work it out for myself?’ DemiDevimon snapped.  
Rolling her eyes, Gatomon let out a sigh.  
‘Fine.’  
‘Just don’t let anyone else know you’re reading it. Especially not the lower ranks.’  
She nodded.  
‘Fine. I’d better get to work then since we ship out in three days.’  
‘Once we’re out, we can both go our separate ways. We can cover more ground that way,’ DemiDevimon told her.  
‘Of course.’  
She frowned again, suspicious, confused. Curiosity outweighed it all, however. She wanted to get to the library and read, find out what this great mysterious object of desire was.  
She opened her mouth to speak again, interrupted by the door down the corridor opening.  
‘Shit,’ DemiDevimon muttered, turning away from Gatomon.  
‘I thought I heard you two still lingering around. Don’t you have something better to be doing than arguing in my corridor? Or in the castle in general?’  
‘DemiDevimon was filling me in on his mission, so I can assist him better,’ Gatomon explained quickly.  
‘Good,’ Myotismon said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ‘Nice to see you’re getting on so well already.’  
They stayed silent, Myotismon’s questionable smile tightening as he began to glare impatiently.  
‘So why are you both still here? DemiDevimon, I believe I gave you guard duty for the next two nights.’  
‘Yessir, of course.’  
He bowed before shuffling backwards, not turning his back on Myotismon until he was a few feet away.  
‘And you,’ Myotismon continued, turning back to Gatomon. ‘I heard what DemiDevimon said.’  
Her mouth dropped open a little. How had he? There was a brick wall and six feet of air between them.  
It wasn’t until she glanced up and saw movement in the rafters above that she remembered Myotismon’s alpha bats. They were almost invisible in the darkness, and quiet as the dead.  
Her mouth suddenly dry as DemiDevimon’s previous words echoed in her head, she stared up at Myotismon, waiting for punishment or a telling off.  
‘I…’ she began quietly.  
‘There was something I needed from the library. I will get that book for you - as amusing as it would be to watch you struggle.’  
He wasn’t still annoyed with her about the disturbance? Once again, it was as if there were two different Myotismon’s. She didn’t understand and she swore he only did it to mess with her head.  
‘Unless you’d rather stand there staring?’  
‘No,’ she muttered with a shake of her head.  
‘Then come,’ he said.  
He marched forwards, Gatomon hung back a few steps. She didn’t want to be in the same room as him. He hurt her. Made her head spin. She didn’t understand what game he was playing with her. It wasn’t kindness. It wasn’t a front.  
‘You’re quieter than usual,’ Myotismon remarked as they walked.  
She jumped at the sound of his voice.  
‘I have a headache,’ she lied quickly.  
Something that sounded like a low chuckle came from Myotismon.  
‘Of course.’  
He knew she was lying.  
Why couldn’t DemiDevimon have stayed? Or by some miracle, could they cross paths with Phantomon on the way? Just so she didn’t have to be in the same room as Myotismon alone. Instinct was telling her to turn tail and run again. But that would make her a coward. She didn’t think she was a coward.  
They were at the library now.  
She stayed by the door as Myotismon went through the shelves, pulling a few books from them, placing them on one of the arms of the chairs by the empty fireplace.  
He took the top book and put it on the other chair, waiting for Gatomon.  
The flames in the fireplace stayed dead as she slowly walked over, walking around the chair to keep away from Myotismon.  
‘It’s cold,’ she observed as she picked up the book and settled into the chair.  
‘I prefer it that way,’ Myotismon told her, flicking through one of the books in his pile.  
She remembered when he used to handle her as Salamon, he was always cold to the touch. Cold breath. Cold stare.  
She really did have a headache now, made worse by the cold air every time she breathed in.  
Pushing the thought back, she opened her book, unable to focus on the words in front of her.  
She could read perfectly, but nothing made any sense. She read over the same sentence three times, her frown deepening each time.  
Sighing, she climbed down from the chair, pacing through the shelves of books trying to find the dictionary she often used.  
Returning with it in her paws, she felt Myotismon’s stare on her.  
‘What?’ she asked, forgetting herself.  
‘It shouldn’t be that challenging for you anymore. You aren’t trying hard enough with your reading,’ Myotismon pointed out.  
She stayed silent for a moment, trying to word her argument in a way that wasn’t going to bring on Myotismon’s temper.  
‘There are some words I don’t know the meaning of. It’s hardly all of them.’  
His eyes narrowed at her and she felt a chill run through her.  
‘My lord, I’m tired. May I take these books to my room and read them before I sleep?’ she asked quickly, bowing her head.  
‘You’ve lied to me once tonight and I let you off. Don’t push your luck. Take staying here for as long as I command as your punishment for your earlier discretion,’ Myotismon told her, voice low.  
Her ears drooped subconsciously.  
This was going to be a long night. But at least she wasn’t out in the freezing cold on guard duty with DemiDevimon.  
‘Yes sir,’ she mumbled eventually, climbing back onto the chair and flicking through the dictionary.  
The description she found for the word she was looking up gave her no more information than what she already knew. Letting out an annoyed sigh, she turned some pages of her book, eyes flicking back over to the dictionary every so often.  
‘What does that mean?’ she hissed, almost tossing the pages over now, desperately scouring for her answer.  
‘What does what mean?’ Myotismon asked, annoyed, glaring at her. ‘And if you tear that book, I’ll tear your ear off.’  
Ignoring the threat, she shook her head, turning back to the first page she had been on.  
‘These things… they’re… traits?’ she questioned.  
‘Tags and crests,’ Myotismon replied. ‘Embodiments of power that beings posses. But they themselves unlock an extraordinary power within Digimon.’  
‘What’s that?’ Gatomon asked, staring at him.  
‘They grant Digimon the power to Digivolve at will.’  
She frowned again, chewing the inside of her lip as she thought back. Turning a few pages of the book, she held it up to Myotismon, pointing at a smudged sketch.  
‘That shape, that’s like that thing that Etemon gave you a while ago,’ she said, matter of factly.  
‘It is, isn’t it?’  
He smirked, mask raising a little on one side as he cocked an eyebrow.  
‘What are they for? What’s the point in Digimon digivolving at will?’ she pressed.  
Myotismon put his own book down and gave her his full attention.  
‘Well, many reasons. For the likes of myself, it would allow me to evolve to my Mega level and challenge a fellow Mega level Digimon. For you, you could evolve to Ultimate without waiting many moons for it to naturally occur.’  
She nodded as he paused, gaze unbreaking.  
‘But then, for those who oppose me, it could mean evolving high enough to defeat me… which is why DemiDevimon has been searching for the tags and crests so they find themselves in the right hands.’  
Her intent faltered at this. She was sure Myotismon’s hands were as far from the right ones for something like that as they could be.  
‘Would you..? Could you use them?’ she asked hesitantly.  
Myotismon shook his head.  
‘They’re not designed to be used by just anyone. And something is missing from me to be able to use them,’ he told her.  
What did he mean? The look on his face told her not to press anymore on that particular string of the subject any longer.  
‘So, to make mine and DemiDevimon’s jobs easier, where could they possibly be? How many are there?’  
A smile pulled at his lips again. She was doing well at reading his expressions and avoiding angering him.  
‘They could be anywhere,’ Myotismon said with a sigh. ‘As useless as DemiDevimon is, he has searched Server, Folder, File Island, Spiral Mountain - as much as Piedmon will allow - and has found nothing so far.’  
‘Great,’ Gatomon said, sighing herself this time.  
She slumped down into her chair, pushing the dictionary to the very edge of the arm and resting the other book on her middle.  
She hadn’t been lying, she really was tired. The dim lights in the room were causing her to strain her eyes and the front of her head to start thumping.  
‘Does Piedmon know about the tags and crests?’ she asked suddenly, realising she’d said it aloud.  
Myotismon’s head tilted to the side a little, almost innocently.  
‘Piedmon was the one who discovered their existence after they were made.’  
‘So who made them?’ she pressed.  
It can’t have been Piedmon. He seemed more focused on destroying things than creating them. And he, like Myotismon, would know the consequences of them falling into the wrong hands.  
‘Some creatures called Agents.’  
She was surprised he was answering her. As she glanced at him, she noticed his eyes were a different shade than usual, almost glowing even in the low light.  
Staring, she couldn’t help but yawn.  
‘Sorry,’ she hummed, pressing a toe against the corner of the book to poke herself awake.  
There was that half smile again, and she realised he hadn’t blinked for a while now.  
‘What are…’ she began, interrupted by another yawn. ‘What are Digivices?’  
‘Sleep,’ he told her, ignoring her question.  
‘No, I’m hungry,’ she mumbled back as her ears drooped to her head, tailing flicking from behind her.  
‘So am I,’ she heard Myotismon say, his voice sounding a mile away.  
Rolling over, book falling to the floor, she tucked a paw under her cheek and succumbed to the sudden strong urge to sleep. Her subconscious mind stayed on high alert, screaming at her to wake back up, keep eyes on Myotismon. She wasn’t safe around him, but nothing her dream self could do could make her open her eyes.  
Eyes.  
Myotismon.  
She couldn’t remember what his eyes looked like just then. Waves and disturbances in the air.  
He’d put her to sleep before. Why now?  
She turned in her sleep, pain ripping through her, replaced by warmth, a dizzy feeling as her subconscious mind gave in, finally allowing her to sleep.


End file.
